


A Work in Progress

by NikoNotHere



Series: Becoming Whole Together [2]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Childhood Trauma, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Flogging, Fluff and Smut, Heavy BDSM, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infidelity, Insecurity, Internal Conflict, M/M, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Polyamory, References to Depression, Trust Issues, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 55,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere/pseuds/NikoNotHere
Summary: Till and Richard are embarking on their first fledgling relationship together after coming to terms with their mutual attraction, but both men have heavy emotional baggage that's guaranteed to make their journey together a difficult one.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Christoph Schneider, Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann
Series: Becoming Whole Together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604857
Comments: 274
Kudos: 140





	1. Starting on the Right Foot

Insistent buzzing from a cell phone roused him from a very deep, foggy sleep. 

Richard groaned deeply at the noise and resisted being pulled awake. Getting up after sleep was one of his major dislikes in life, whether it were from his own bed or a woman's that he'd shared: both were equally troublesome to leave.

Today, he assumed it was his bed. He felt the mental tension of a hangover pulsing around his temples. He grimaced and pushed the heel of his hand to his eyes, pressing away the insistent pain. He'd had many, many hangovers, and knew if he didn't get up and either drink more or take something, the pain would multiply in the next hour or so that he was awake. 

His slowly awakening mind suddenly registered the heat and breathing of someone behind him, and his automatic assumption was he'd bedded the girl he'd impressed at the local bar's trivia contest the night before. He smiled to himself and rolled over, about to assume a Cassanova role before he got up to find some painkillers.

Till's massive, naked, boulder-like body was wrapped around the pillow beside him, hugging it with his face pressed deeply into it. 

Richard froze, his mind suddenly blank.

Till grunted and rubbed his face into the pillow, kicking his legs a bit as he shifted his position on the bed, still deeply asleep.

Richard's memory came flooding back in convenient bullet points.

He'd fucked Till, a few days ago.  
Till had subsequently fucked him, last night.  
The two had slept together, also last night. 

More importantly, Richard had told Till he *loved him,* and the man had only required his dick to be put in Richard's ass for them to be back to normal, as friends, pending further discussion. 

Richard's heart pounded with apprehension. What the fuck had he done?

Till grunted again and rolled over in bed, his hairy back turned to Richard. Of course he slept soundly. Of course he was perfectly happy with the situation. Till had not been the one who orchestrated a fake fuck session to make Richard jealous, decades before. Till hadn't preyed upon Richard's love to him. Till hadn't begged for forgiveness though he didn't deserve it.

Richard had, and for some reason, Till accepted it.

A rising feeling of guilt and inadequacy began to stifle him, compounding his hangover and giving him an agonizing headache. He squirmed to the side of the bed, attempting to slide out of it in order to extricate himself from this situation and think.

Calloused but gentle hands suddenly grabbed his hips and hauled him back across the bed, pulling back into a warm embrace.

"Hallo," Till's half asleep, rumbly morning voice hit Richard's ear.

"Hallo," Richard said quietly. He glanced around the room, slightly worried Oli would be in the other bed, as it was technically Oli's room as well as Till's. The bed was empty. 

Richard felt Till's rough, stubbly face rubbing against the back of his neck. It tickled pleasantly. 

"Hey, I need to get up and--"

"Already feeling guilty?" Till interrupted him.

Richard snapped his mouth shut. How in the fresh hell was Till so perceptive?

"I knew you would," Till sighed, but maintained his firm hug on Richard. 

"No, it's not that," Richard lied. He didn't want to talk. Talking always bit him in the ass. He was bad at it.

But apparently he was worse at lying. 

Till grunted and squeezed him tighter. "Don't lie. I knew you would. I do too."

That suprised Richard. "Why? You have no reason to."

Till nodded against Richard's neck as one of his hands began lazily stroking up his chest. "I know, and neither do you. It's not rational; it just happens. Any time I feel happy or content, I feel guilty, as if I shouldn't, or as if it's about to come crashing back down and hurt me."

Richard marveled at that. Of all people, Till should have no reason to feel guilt or remorse. For some reason, the fact that he still did eased Richard's mind a great deal.

He sighed, then relaxed his body, snuggling back into Till's embrace. He felt the man smile against his shoulder.

"Good," Till rumbled. "Now go back to sleep. It's much too fucking early."

Richard shook his head. "Can't. Hungover."

"Ahhhh, right," Till groaned. "Fine. I suppose you can get up."

"Thank you, oh so kind one," Richard quipped as he rolled out of the bed. He grabbed his sweatpants and hauled them on, chancing a glance back at the bed.

Till was stretching out with a yawn atop the blanket, his arms high above his head and his toes pointed, all limbs shaking with the stretch before he released them. Richard admired Till's hefty build, his subtle but still solid muscles along his arms and legs, the dark hair that covered nearly every inch of the man, the scars that showed stark white against his ruddy--

Till cleared his throat pointedly, interrupting Richard's daydreaming.  
"Take a picture," Till teased as he sat up. "They last longer."

Richard blushed and ducked his head, ashamed at being caught staring.  
"Sorry," he muttered, getting back to putting on his shirt.

"Don't be. I like looking at you too."

This brought even more heat to Richard's face.

"How's your asshole?" Till asked, and Richard could *hear* the teasing smile without even looking at the man. 

"Fuck off," Richard muttered, buttoning his shirt away from Till to hide his blushing face.

"I'm being serious," Till said with a chuckle. "Well, mostly. Are you sore?" 

Richard sighed, then see-sawed his hand. "A little."

"I figured. Just don't wince when you sit. That draws a bit of attention from others."

As Till laughed at his own terrible joke, Richard suddenly remembered that there were four other people in the house. Four others that knew what the two of them had been doing, or at least had a very strong inkling of it.

He looked back over worriedly at Till, but the man was busy tapping at his phone. 

"Jesus, I fall asleep one time without telling people…" Till muttered as he texted. 

"What did they say?" Richard asked tentatively. "I left my phone in my room."

Till waved a hand dismissively without looking up. "Lorenz was just bitching that I didn't tell him he could come back. They all stayed out till 3, he said. Oli was in yours and Paul's room, I guess."

Richard nodded. Oli absolutely despised the couch, so his room was a pretty good guess as to where he slept.

"Till?"

"Ja?" He looked up from his phone.

"What do we tell them?"

Till seemed a bit confused. "About what? Us?"

"Yeah."

"Do we need to tell them anything? I hadn't planned on it, except for Flake. He's going to be in my business either way, so figured I'd get ahead of him."

"Well, I don't suppose we *have* to, I just sort of wanted to have an answer if they asked. They did help me a great deal yesterday when I was in a panic about it all, so…"

"Ah, I see what you're asking now." Till slid off the bed and dug around in a pile of laundry. "You want to know what we are; what we have now."

"Yeah, that's definitely a big part of it."

"To be perfectly honest, I don't fucking know," Till admitted as he held up a pair of exceptionally wrinkled jeans. "I haven't thought about it yet."

"I don't think we should do what we did before and not talk about it."

Till shook his head, agreeing with Richard. "No, you're right. It needs to be discussed." He pulled his pants on with a grunt, and Richard suddenly noticed Till was now sporting a fairly impressive hard-on that he was struggling to fit in his jeans.

"Was waking up next to me that exciting?" Richard teased.

Till stopped fighting with his pants and looked over at Richard's smug face.  
"While I'm sure you'd be ever so flattered, no. Just morning wood."

At Richard's fake hurt look, Till added, "But it *was* nice to wake up with you." He turned back to trying to stuff himself awkwardly into his pants.

Richard suddenly had a wicked idea, and decided to make a move before the day started. He walked over to Till and put his hands over Till's as they still tried to button his pants.

Till looked up in suprise just as Richard kissed him hungrily. Till made a pleased sound that morphed into a suprised grunt as Richard grabbed his stiffened dick through his pants.

"Well, good morning to you too," Till murmured as Richard pulled back and began squeezing him. Richard tugged at his pants, and Till allowed Richard to pull them off, his erection bouncing a bit as he freed it. He put his hands on the older man's knees and spread them, a bit in awe of the man's size in the morning light. 

"You want me to fuck you again already?" Till asked, petting Richard's hair fondly. "Or did you want to do the fucking?"

"Nee," Richard said, kneeling and scooting up between Till's thighs. "I want you to fuck my throat."

At that, Till's cock throbbed and he sucked a quick breath in suprise. Richard smirked. Catching Till off guard with dirty talk seemed to be a winner.

"Can you take it?" Till asked warily, glancing at both his dick and Richard's mouth.

"I want to find out," Richard said, reaching his hand to grip near the base. 

"You're perfectly welcome to try, leibling."

Till's hand stayed on Richard's head as he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around Till's cock. Till groaned and let his head fall back in pleasure. Richard knew he'd not expected this at all, and it pleased him to make Till feel so good in return for the pleasure he'd received last night.

But god, he was *big*. Richard struggled simply to fit his mouth around him, much less put him down his throat. He started small and slow, bobbing his head experimentally around the first few inches. He listened happily as Till rumbled his pleasure and raked his fingers through Richard's messy hair. 

Richard felt himself start to gag as Till's length began approaching the back of his throat. 

Till groaned, then said hoarsely, "Stick out your tongue."

Richard pulled back, slightly out of breath. "What?"

"I forget, you've not done this before. Stick out your tongue a bit when you feel yourself about to gag." Till demonstrated with his own tongue, then rolled his eyes at Richard's disbelieving look. "It helps, ok? Throwing up on someone isn't pleasant. Or at least, it's not my thing."

"Yes, yes, all right. I'll try it," Richard said, grossed out at the mental image. "You know how to keep a mood going, don't you?"

Till chuckled as Richard went back at it, testing Till's advice. Surprisingly, it worked quite well, and he was able to push even further onto him. As soon as Richard felt the tip touch the back of his throat, Till moaned and pushed up with his hips. Suprised at the sudden added length in his throat, Richard's hands flew up to Till's legs and he pulled back.

"Shit, sorry Rich. You ok?"

Richard nodded. "It just surprised me."

"I'll keep still," Till promised. "It's just hard with your mouth being so fucking hot."

Richard grinned. "I didn't realize how much technicality is involved in this. I have a lot more respect for all the women who've done it, now."

Till nodded somberly. "It is an art form to perfect."

"Well, I'm loving the practice. And you don't have to be still, just try not to impale my throat just yet."

Till sighed in pleasure as Richard continued to go down on him, pushing him further and further into his throat. It finally got to where Richard mostly had him, until he hit the back of his throat where it refused to let him go further.

Till grunted and asked, "You trust me?"

Richard nodded, his eyes looking up as he continued sucking.

"And you really still want me to fuck your throat?"

Richard pulled off, switching to rubbing the man with his hand. "Yes, I do."

"All right. Do as you were doing before when it wouldn't go further. I'm going to do the work, you just keep your teeth back. When I push in, I want you to do like a yawning motion with your throat, like this." Till opened his mouth and showed Richard, who watched in fascination. "It opens your throat up. I won't go too hard or for too long, but you have to keep breathing. Just pull back hard if it's too much."

Richard listened attentively and nodded his head in agreement. 

Till leaned down and kissed Richard's mouth, giving Richard butterflies in his stomach. He then stood up, motioning for him to scoot close. Richard did so, and began sucking again as Till put his hand on the back of his head. 

Till made another happy rumbling noise and allowed him to continue for a minute, then gently held both sides of Richard's head. 

"Make sure to breathe," he advised once more before slowly rocking his hips forward. He didn't go far, testing Richard's tolerance for him. Richard nodded, indicating he was fine. He kept his teeth in check and savored the feel of Till's total control.

Till thrust his hips rhythmically, pushing a bit further each time. His breathing became heavier, and short moans escaped his lips as he began to hit the back of Richard's throat.

"Open your throat, Rich," he guided, slowing his thrusts for the man to get used to it. 

Richard did so with the next push into his mouth, attempting to force a yawn motion. Till slid surprisingly far down into Richard's throat. Richard nearly coughed at the sensation, but remembered to pull air through his nose and breathe. He braced his hands on the backs of Till's thighs and gripped tightly. 

"Good, fucking good Rich," Till praised as he bucked his hips again, even further. Richard was in love with the sensations, the fucking into his willing mouth, the firmness of Till's hands against his head, the growling Till was doing. It was extremely hot.

Till continued to fuck his mouth, his breathing thickening after a few minutes. Richard desperately wanted to let Till finish, but he felt his jaw becoming very sore, and knew he couldn't hold the position any longer. He tapped the back of Till's leg gently, and Till stopped his thrusting with a deep exhale.

"Fuck, Rich," he gasped. "That was fantastic." 

Richard massaged his jaw a bit, but smiled proudly. "It was really hot for me," he admitted shyly.

"Do you want me to finish myself off?" Till offered. "I'm sure your jaw is painful now."

"No, I mean it is a little, but I really want to finish you with my mouth, if I can?"

Till hmmed, then nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. 

"I'll help you. Luckily for you, I've been at this a long time and know what works. Come."

He gestured for Richard to sit between his legs as he'd done earlier, and Richard quickly obeyed, eager and ready to please.

"Just suck as you were doing before, yes, like that, good."

Till took a deep breath and exhaled with a long, pleased moan. He allowed Richard to continue for just a moment before looking down.

"Cup my balls," Till instructed, putting Richard's hand around them in the right spot. "Then pull a bit, just there--fuck." Richard felt the muscles in Till's powerful thighs tense up as he gently tugged in time with his sucking. "Just keep that up, yes, gott--" Richard heard Till's voice catch as he gripped Richard's hair with a bit more force. Richard concentrated intently, and rubbed his tongue a bit along the underside of Till's shaft as well.

Till's breathing was a ragged mess, and his thighs closed up against Richard's body.

"I'm close, Rich; keep going, just like that," Till grunted, tightening his two-handed grip in Richard's hair. 

Richard felt before he heard Till approaching the edge, in the tightening of the man's testicles and the flexing of his leg muscles. Richard increased the speed of his sucking, and tugged just a touch harder, pleased when he heard Till exclaim, "I'm going to cum, fuck, Richard--" 

He pulled himself from Richard's mouth, grabbing his length tightly as he began to spasm. Hot cum spattered against Richard's surprised face as Till squeezed and stroked feverishly, growling in time with his throbs. 

Richard suddenly felt his face grow very hot, and he opened his mouth ever so slightly as Till continued to cum on his face. The taste of warm salt hit his tongue and his cock throbbed in his pants. He felt both filthy and extraordinarily turned on.

Till settled after a few moments and just held his dick as he came back to his senses. He released a huge breath as if he'd been holding it, and then looked down at Richard's messy face.

"Oh god, Richard, I'm sorry, I didn't think about--"

"No no, don't apologize," Richard said huskily. He looked up at Till's flushed face with his own lust-filled eyes and he slowly licked his lips, running a finger through the mess and cleaning it off.

Till swallowed heavily.  
"You look fucking hot like that, Rich."

"I really like it," Richard admitted, feeling pangs of arousal in his abdomen as he watched Till's erection now refusing to soften. 

Till watched him for a moment more, then pried his eyes away as he heard his phone vibrating.  
"Hold that thought," he told Richard as he reached across the bed and grabbed the phone. 

He tapped it a few times, then sighed.  
"Flake made breakfast and wants everyone there."

He looked down once more at Richard.  
"Fuck."

Richard grinned, then grabbed a towel from a folded pile nearby.  
"Don't worry about it. There's plenty of time for fooling around after breakfast." He winked at Till after cleaning his face off. 

Till smiled at him in return, then planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "Thank you for that, by the way. It felt fantastic."

Richard beamed at the praise. "It was a pleasure, literally."

As they both re-dressed, Richard felt compelled to ask once more, "So, what are we? We got a bit distracted before we figured it out."

Till paused in the middle of putting on a sock and thought for a moment.  
"What do we want to be?"

"Friends with benefits isn't quite it," Richard admitted. "I feel more than that for you."

"And I for you. But I'm not sure I want to fully "date" you, either. I'm not ready for that yet."

Richard nodded in agreement. "Perhaps we can just say we're seeing one another, make it simple." 

Till slowly nodded. "It implies we're intimate, but not overly so. I suppose that works for now, until we figure it out further as we go."

"Sounds fine to me."

"All right. Let's get the familial hazing out of the way, shall we?" Till held his hand for Richard to get up from the floor, which he accepted, leaning in to kiss Till briefly.

"Let's do it."


	2. Breakfast Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flake forces everyone to eat breakfast and talk like civilized human beings, despite his temper.

Till wasn't prancing into the kitchen, but he may as well have been with how light and happy he felt. Even his constant sense of impending doom was at an all time low.

And, speaking of Doom, Till flashed him a large smile as he rounded the corner to the table and found him already sitting there. 

"Guten morgen," Till greeted, sliding into the chair across from him. Richard was close behind and sat down next to Till, nodding to Schneider as well.

"Guten Morgen," Schneider said back at them. He said nothing further, but seemed to be avoiding their gaze. Richard did likewise, his ears a bit pink. Till found the situation hilarious, nudging Richard with his foot and chuckling. Richard glared at him but said nothing. 

"How was your evening out?" Till inquired as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Schneider shrugged. "We saw a movie. It wasn't very interesting." He paused and glanced between Richard and Till.

"How was your evening?" he asked carefully. "Were you able to work everything out?"

Richard had opened his mouth to respond, but Till was quicker.

"Oh yes, very much so," he said, grinning enthusiastically. Richard flopped his head into his hands, already turning red. It was going to be *that* kind of morning. He should have known as much.

Schneider also blushed a bit and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I'm glad you two are okay now, for--" he started, but was interrupted by Till.

"*Very* okay," Till said pointedly, sipping his coffee with his eyebrows raised.

Richard looked like he wanted to crawl under the table to hide, and Schneider looked as if he might have followed him.

Till simply looked pleased with himself.

Flake entered the room, bringing a breakfast tray with him. While the tray of assorted salami, cheese, bread and marmalade looked pleasant, Flake did not.

"Guten Morgen, Flake," Till said cheerily. 

Flake set the tray down with a disgruntled sniff and did not return the greeting.

"I take it your evening was not as pleasant as mine?" Till enquired innocently.

Flake plopped into his chair with a huff. "The film was terrible. I was reminded why I never go see them. The theater experience is horrific. I do not understand everyone's fascination with the cinema. There were at least fifteen trailers before the movie, and even before that at least twenty minutes of commercials. It was an astounding waste of time."

He glared at Till. "Had I known I didn't need to be out so late, I'd have skipped the movie entirely."

Till shrugged and grabbed some of the breakfast platter. "I fell asleep."

Paul walked into the room with a yawn and sat opposite Richard at the table. 

"Guten Morgen," all but Flake welcomed.

Paul, in the middle of another yawn simply nodded in response. 

"You look exhausted, Paul," Richard noted.

"Mmm. I'm an old man, Rich. I can't be out until daybreak and then get right back up an hour after that anymore."

"I thought Flake said you got back at 3?" Till asked through a mouthful of bread and marmalade. "It's well past 9 now, too."

Paul waved a hand. "3, daybreak, it all blurs together when you're old."

Till snorted and Schneider shook his head. 

Oli ambled into the room with a smile and nodded at everyone. Most had their mouths full and just nodded back.

"Now that everyone is present," Flake directed, "Till and Richard, would you be so kind as to set our minds at ease as to whether you two are still friends and functional band members?"

Richard ducked his head a bit but nodded. Till did likewise, the same stupid grin on his face.

"Good," Flake said. "Now we can move on with--"

"I'd like to know what came of it more specifically," Paul interjected. 

Flake sighed in annoyance at being interrupted.

"How specific?" Till asked with a cocked eyebrow. 

Paul waggled his own eyebrows at him and the two began laughing. Richard wanted to hit them both.

"No," Flake said forcefully. "Not while I'm eating breakfast."

Paul clarified, "I just meant where you two stand. I was pretty concerned for you both. I think we all were."

Oli and Schneider nodded. Flake, still grouchy, nodded begrudgingly as well. 

Now Richard spoke up, sensing an opportunity to change the direction of the conversation.   
"We had a very frank discussion about avoiding one another, the need for open and honest communication, and addressing the past that we should have done years and years ago, but just never did."

"It was an incredibly helpful talk," Till said, his voice more serious. "We don't fear the sight of one another or wish death on each other either. It's a very nice feeling."

Richard sighed internally, grateful Till had stopped beating a dead horse with his constant implications. 

Paul, unfortunately, continued speaking.   
"And, are you two…." He looked at them both with his eyebrows raised and smiled. Damn the man, Richard thought as his ears burned hot from embarrassment. 

"We're not dating, no," Till clarified, continuing his more serious tone. He must have sensed how desperate Richard was to move on from the discussion and chose to act as an adult now. "We are fond of each other, but don't want to complicate things unnecessarily right now. We might pursue something more serious in the future."

The table was silent at that. Even Flake's eyes were slightly wider at the acknowledgement of the two's mutual attraction and Till's blunt honesty about it. They had clearly not expected a straight answer, especially not from Till.

"Er, well, that's good, I think?" Paul ventured. "Are congratulations in order, or just a pat on the back, or…?"

Till chuckled and finished his coffee. "No. As I said, it's not serious. But thank you anyhow."

Paul beamed. He could clearly see Till and Richard were at least in far better spirits, and seemed to be genuinely content, despite Richard's horrible embarrassment. Their happiness was all that mattered to Paul, and seeing it achieved was a job well done in his book. 

"I'm glad for you both," Oli added he finished his food. As usual, he'd wolfed down the meal in record time. The man ate like a starving animal. Where all the food went, Richard had no earthly idea. 

"Yes, we're pleased that you're on good terms again," Schneider said, a bit of hesitation in his voice. Richard wondered whether he was still feeling awkward from Till's joking earlier. 

Flake cleared his throat for attention and pointed at the coffee pot. Paul passed it to him after pouring himself and Schneider another cup.

Flake went to pour his own, and then dropped the pot onto the table in exasperation as only a few dribbles hit his cup.

"Of course. Well, I'm going to make more coffee. If anyone wants any more--"

Till raised his mug.

"--too fucking bad," Flake said flatly as he scooted his chair back from the table. He left the table in a huff with the coffee pot.

"He really needs to go to bed at a more reasonable hour," Till quipped. "He's a hissing cat when he doesn't get enough sleep."

"I am no such thing!" Flake hollered from the next room over, much to the table's amusement. Even Richard grinned at the good-natured teasing.

"Well, I need a shower," Till said, pushing away from the table as well and looking pointedly at Richard. The man looked away at a a suddenly terribly interesting crack on the wall. Till tried to hide a smile, then yelled, "Thank you for the breakfast, Lorenz."

He heard only the mechanical whirring of the coffee bean grinder in response, so he stood up and stretched. 

"Thank you all again for your help. I can't speak for Richard, but I legitimately do feel a world of difference, all good."

They raised their mugs to him in acknowledgement and smiled as he dipped his head before leaving the room.

Oli pushed back his chair as well. "I've got some tutoring I'm doing at the music school today. Should be back in the afternoon."

"Have fun," Richard said as Oli waved goodbye. 

Paul grinned broadly at Richard and slapped his arm. "I'm glad you're happy, Richard," he said supportively. "Whatever that entails." He left the room with a wink and a nudge to his shoulder, and Richard resumed his earlier desire for the floor to swallow him.

Schneider cleared his throat quietly, prompting Richard to look up from his silent embarrassment. 

"Look, Richard, I know I'm the last person to be saying anything with my track record and advising you, but…" he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Richard was slightly confused. "What do you mean? We aren't dating, as he said."

"I understand. It's just, being so close, even if you aren't exactly serious, it can get messy, like you've seen." Schneider was having a difficult time expressing himself and it was frustrating him, Richard could see. 

"I don't want you two hurt again. You can't afford it, the band can't afford it, and I'm afraid that's what will happen."

Richard felt a bit indignant at that. Who was Schneider to tell him what was best, after having just forced him to speak to Till and confront his own feelings for him?

"I know you're about to bitch at me, and that's fine, I just wanted to give you a warning, or a caution is a better way to put it. I don't know if we can all help again if it turns out badly. That's all."

Richard couldn't really think of anything to say that wasnt a bit rude or hurtful, so he kept his mouth shut and just gave Schneider a curt nod of acknowledgement. 

Schneider tried to smile. "I am glad you're happy, though. Legitimately. Just, try to keep that, okay?" He patted Richard's arm as he stood and left Richard to his unfinished breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please feel free to leave criticism and critique. That is just as appreciated as the nice words ^_^ 
> 
> I also have a thought question/exercise. What interactions do you most want to see? As I said, I have a few ideas I'm working with, but I would love to hear from you what you're craving to read!


	3. Bedroom Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is a bit unsatisfied.

It had been three days since Schneider's words of caution to Richard, and the guitarist was already reconsidering his earlier staunch conviction that everything was fine.

Till had been aloof and casual in public and around the house, only deigning to be semi-romantic with Richard in the brief, occasional moments they had alone.

They'd kissed in the hallway a few times in passing, cuddled a bit before they parted ways each night, then had a brief, sweaty makeout in the bathroom of their studio. That had been it.

For Richard, this wasn't enough. Of course he didn't expect Till on his arm 24/7, but at least some acknowledgement or closeness was expected, right? He certainly thought so.

After flopping down for a third night on the couch, Richard was salty. He'd seen Till come back from wherever he'd been about an hour before and go right to his room. Oli was away again for the night. Richard suspected he was with his girlfriend, but didn't bother asking. He doubted Oli would confirm or deny it anyhow.

Richard pulled his phone out and texted Till, his irritation getting the better of him. 

"Hey, am I allowed in your room?" he texted.

Till took a few minutes to respond. "Of course. Why wouldn't you be?"

Richard's snark was very apparent in his reply: "Considering it's been three days since I was last in it, I had to wonder."

"Door is always open for you."

Richard sighed and pocketed his phone as he got up. Till was so flippant.

He knocked lightly on his band mate's door. Till told him to come in, his voice a bit husky. Had he been sleeping already?

As Richard entered the dark room, he heard Till say, "I meant that metaphorically, Richard, but you don't have to knock if the door is closed either. You can just enter."

Till was on his bed, buried in blankets. It seems he had indeed been sleeping. 

"Do you need some affection, leibling?" Till asked, his hand gesturing for Richard to come sit on the bed. 

"Well, yes, actually. Any at all would be nice." Richard walked over to the bed and sat cross legged atop it.

"Hmm?" Till asked, his voice encouraging Richard to continue as he grabbed at the man, pulling him into a spooning position. "You don't think kisses in the bathroom count, I take it?"

Richard rolled his eyes, not especially in a joking mood, though he allowed himself to be pulled close to Till's warm body under the mess of blankets. "No, not really."

"Well, what do you want?" Till snuggled against Richard's back as Richard sighed. This felt nice, but there was a nagging sense of *something* that wouldn't leave Richard alone. 

"A bit more than a peck now and then, at least," he grumbled as Till nuzzled his way up the back of his neck.

"You want to fuck?" Till asked, nibbling at Richard's earlobe. 

Ticklish, Richard flinched away. "No, that's not what I mean."

Till's mouth stopped playing at Richard's neck for a moment. "So, what *do* you mean?

Richard rubbed his face with a hand in irritation. Why was speaking his mind always so difficult?  
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "This just doesn't feel quite right, somehow."

Till shrugged. "We're busy men, Rich. We don't necessarily have time for constant intimacy."

"No, that's not it either. Fuck, I can't think of how I need to explain it." Richard balled himself up a bit more tightly, away from Till's body. Till followed him and wrapped his arms around him anyway. 

"You don't have to put words to everything immediately, you know," Till advised, stroking his fingers down Richard's arm in a soothing manner. "You like to rush with everything, but everything isn't always able to be rushed."

"It's not about rushing," Richard insisted. "It just feels, I don't know, like we're doing this wrong or something."

"Do you feel guilty still?"

Richard shook his head. "No, this is different. It feels like I'm a kid with a secret boyfriend or something."

There was a pause before Till spoke, and his voice held a small amount of concern. "Do you want us to announce whatever this is? Does it need to be public?"

"No, definitely not." Richard felt Till's body relax. Clearly that was something he was not at all into. "I think..." Richard wrestled for the words again. "I think I just want more overall."

Till sighed, and squeezed Richard again. "Ah."

They stayed quiet for a moment, Till hugging Richard's back and Richard beginning to feel silly that he'd brought it up. Maybe he didn't need more. Maybe he was just expecting something that didn't need to happen, or, god, he really just didn't know what exactly he wanted. 

"I can't read your mind, Rich," Till prompted. "I need a little more than that. How can I help make you feel better about this? We can figure it out together. If you need more daily affection, I can work on that; you just have to tell me. I can't guess everything."

"I wish I could just write a list or something," Richard chuckled. "Unfortunately my brain doesnt seem to work like that. It doesn't feel the need to detail what's wrong, just a general feeling of unease if something's wrong."

Till placed a kiss against the back of Richard's head. "Introspection is a hard thing. I still have trouble with it sometimes too. It just takes time and practice, I suppose. Can you think of anything that would help? Something we can do differently?"

"I think I just crave more consistent romance."

Till chuckled. "I suppose bathroom makeout sessions don't fall into that category, do they?"

"Definitely not," Richard said with a smile. "Though it was admittedly pretty hot."

Till rumbled in agreement, his arm creeping around to hold Richard by the belly. "So, you want romance, Herr Kruspe? What sort of romance?"

Richard felt warmth creep into his abdomen at the tone of Till's voice, not to mention the hand that was rubbing slow circles across his chest and stomach. 

"Yes," he said, trying to stay focused. "I don't want to be roommates that kiss like, every other day. Not to say that I need constant smothering," he amended. "I certainly don't."

"Of course not," Till agreed, his circles going lower down Richard's body. "Go on. What sort of romance do you need?"

"Um," Richard hesitated as he felt rough fingers sliding to his belt line. "I think I'd like, uh, to sleep here with you more often; not every night, but maybe more frequently, and--"  
He inhaled sharply as Till's hand slipped into his pants and drew a line back and forth between his hips.

"Go on," Till commanded, a bit more firmly. 

"Well, um, I think occasional dates, just spending time together apart from the stu-- studio," he stammered as Till slid his hand to his balls and fondled them. 

"Ah, yes, quality time that isn't work-related. Very good," Till encouraged, giving Richard's sack a gentle tug. 

"Till, please, I really can't focus like this--"

"Hush," Till cut him off, his grip becoming firmer. Richard stiffened, but shut his mouth obediently. "You obviously need a little help thinking about what you want. A little pressure can help with that." He demonstrated by squeezing ever so slightly. Richard grunted in reponse.

"Now, go on. What else do you want from me? Sleeping together more frequently, quality time that isn't with work, and..?"

"I want-- uh, I want--" Richard squirmed as Till moved his hand to Richard's noticeably-erect dick and began stroking. 

"Speak, Richard," Till demanded, increasing the intensity of his motions up and down his length.

"Fuck, I want-- god, Till, I cant, this is torture, please just let me think," he begged, his hips thrusting into Till's grip.

"Tell me what you fucking want," Till growled harshly into Richard's ear, stroking Richard fast and hard.

With a gasp, Richard arched his body, pressing back into Till.

"I want to feel fucking loved," he cried, thrashing about and grabbing onto Till's arms tightly. Till immediately calmed his frantic movements on Richard's cock, slowing them to a gentle caress. 

Richard moaned and gasped for air, slowly sliding down from the plateau he'd nearly been catapulted from. 

"There you go," Till comforted, releasing Richard's thick member. "See? You needed a little push is all."

"Fuck you," Richard whispered, still recovering his breath from the sudden lack of stimulation. His face felt hot and the need to finish was overpowering. He trembled and swallowed thickly.

"You want to fuck me?" Till teased. 

Richard huffed, still a bit irritated at Till for the literal cock tease. "No."

"Want to get off?"

"…yes. And then I want to revisit this talk, without distractions, please."

"Fair enough," Till admitted, rolling Richard around to face him. He kissed Richard deeply and pulled him close under the blankets.

The two then promptly forgot about their talk entirely.


	4. Flake's Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till goes to Flake for more advice. Flake is Flake, and unfortunately, Till is still Till.

"At the risk of giving you too much information," Till began in an annoying start to the conversation, Flake thought, "I feel like I can't get close to Richard emotionally without being close physically. It's like my brain can't separate the two."

Till and Flake had driven out to visit Flake's and his daughter's horse, far into the countryside. Flake was busy brushing and grooming the pretty animal, who contentedly chewed hay. Being far from civilization was idyllic to him, normally alone, but Till was yet again having doubts or whatever it was this time about his new relationship-that-wasn't-really-a-relationship, so he'd asked to tag along today. Why Richard and Till couldn't just fuck and leave things casual was far outside Flake's understanding, but he felt compelled to listen anyway. Till was his friend, and he wanted him to be content, whatever that entailed. 

Today, it entailed getting too personal yet again, apparently. Till had waited until they were nearly done with their visit before broaching the topic he'd apparently needed to get off his chest.

"I don't think I understand," Flake said from the side of the brown horse, scrubbing a particularly stubborn patch of dirt from his fur. His horse had an affinity for mud puddles. "The two aren't mutually exclusive. Be more specific."

Till patted the animal's side and chuckled. "Well, how *specific* do you want me to get?"

Flake sighed and wished he'd not needed clarification, but waved a hand. "Whatever you think you need to say, just say it. I'll survive."

Till left his hand to stroke along the horse's neck as he thought about what to say. Flake continued his gentle brushing.

"I can't seem to have any serious talks with Richard without it ending up in sex. It doesn't seem healthy because it always ends with us losing track of what we were talking about to begin with. I just can't figure out how to speak and communicate with him like a normal person, I guess. Or more than a normal person, I don't know."

Flake wrinkled his nose. There he went again, putting too much emotion into it. He'd counseled Till countless times on his previously emotionless love life, and Till had always insisted he was perfectly happy without a consistent emotional partner. 

Now, he was doubling back and doubting everything he'd ever claimed, and that bothered Flake. He couldn't tell if Till were simply confused because Richard was closer to him than any woman he'd ever been with, or if he truly did have new feelings that surpassed his usual lust; if the latter were true, Flake knew he would have a hard time understanding those feelings because of his emotionally-disconnected past relationships.

He just needed to figure out which of the two was happening.

"What serious talks do you mean? Are you discussing life, emotions, what?"

"Well, like that first night, once we'd talked a bit and told one another how we felt, sort of, we just ended up sleeping together. We resolved some things, but left a lot unsaid. We tried to talk again the next morning before breakfast about how we felt about one another, but the same thing happened. And last night, he came to me to try and say I wasn't giving him enough attention, and I couldn't stop myself. We never even came close to finishing that conversation."

Till paused to take a breath and Flake looked over at him critically.  
"Do you think you're taking advantage of him?"

"I… I don't know. I don't think so, but I don't know if that's wishful thinking or the truth. He doesn't tell me no, but I can't help feeling as though it's somehow inappropriate."

"Here's my thought on the matter," Flake began, resting his arms across the back of his horse so he could look Till in the eyes.  
"Everything I've seen points to you two wanting your relationship to move at different speeds. Richard is the fast one, the needier one, and you are the slow one. What it appears, at least to me, is that you're subconsciously slowing the relationship down by putting off talks and emotional intimacy. Your brain kicks you into sex-mode rather than allowing yourself to be intimate."

"Flake, believe me, I've been quite intimate."

"This is one time where your concept of a thing is completely different from what it actually is," Flake chided in a bit of a condescending manner. "Intimacy is more than sex, Till."

"I'm well aware, Flake." Till sounded offended. "I just meant--"

"I know what you meant," Flake interrupted, going back to brushing the horse. "And I also wasn't finished. It's more than sex, and it's also more than simply "having serious talks." Intimacy is something that's grown, fostered, built up between people. It doesn't happen overnight, much the way trust is grown. You're not letting it grow; you're focusing on the sexual side, and using it as a manipulation."

"Manipulation?" Till asked, and Flake heard an even stronger note of offense in his voice. 

"Yes. You use your sexuality to manipulate others. Now, in the past, it's been mostly for your own personal satisfaction. Close your mouth, I'm not finished and what you're going to say doesn't matter."

Till did so. Flake was glad. He didn't want to shout around his horse

"Thank you. Now, I've seen it too many times to count. You sleep with someone because it makes you feel good, regardless of what *they* want from sleeping with you. Now, that generally is fine, especially if the other persons were wanting something nefarious or unreasonable from you. But you're in a habit with it now; so much so that you don't even recognize it. You're a closed-off man, Till, and Richard needs you to be open, fully."

Till had busied himself picking bits of grass and leaves from the horse's mane. He looked like a child that had been punished for eating too many sweets. Flake felt pleased that he'd communicated properly to him. 

"You're not hopeless, though," Flake added. "I've seen you open, on the rarest of occasions. You just need to learn. Let Richard help you."

"And how exactly will I do that?" Till sounded sarcastic. Flake didn't mind. Flake's words had probably stung him a good bit. He was allowed to feel snappy in return.

"You let him talk. Keep your hands to yourself once in awhile and let him speak, or don't speak. You know, there are things you can do together to bring you closer that don't involve your cock."

Till rolled his eyes. "You want me to date him? Take him to coffee and to movies?" 

"You know I think movies are a waste of time, money, and energy. And no, it doesn't have to be a "date," so to speak. Your view of relationships is so skewed. You can sit at home and read books together, take him fishing with you, literally any activity you could possibly think of that doesn't use your genitals is a potential opportunity for intimacy."

Flake finished his brushing and set down the brush in his tack box. He looked over at Till, who'd given up trying to untangle a spot from the horse's mane and instead petted along his soft nose. The horse bumped his nose against his shoulder, searching for carrots that Flake had forgotten to bring. 

"You're probably right," Till finally admitted, catching the horse's bobbing face and planting a kiss between his eyes. 

"I know I'm right. You don't exactly have an impartial view, here."

"So, I should romance him, without the sex, essentially?"

Flake made a non-committal noise. "Somewhat. You'll figure it out. Just make sex less than priority one, especially if Richard wants to just spend time with you. See what happens and how you feel. It should get to be more obvious the longer you two are together."

"We aren't really together," Till clarified as Flake clipped the lead rope to his horse's halter.

"You can tell yourself whatever you please, but you're in a relationship. Come on. It'll be dark before we get him back to his pasture at this rate."

\--------

Till had stopped off at the store on the way back to the house, and greeted Richard with a peck on the lips as he entered the living room. 

Richard was suprised at the affection, but pleased. They'd slept very well together the night before, and he'd woken up refreshed and happy. He fiddled with a few potential riffs for upcoming songs, spoken on the phone to his family for an hour or so, and generally spent his day relaxing contentedly. Oli was still away with his family, getting in much needed time with them before they were forced to move again. Paul had gone to bed early, but Richard suspected he was up watching movies. Schneider had called in an early evening as well, leaving the house to Richard while Flake and Till were away. He was glad to see them back.

"Welcome home," Richard called as Till unloaded his groceries in the kitchen. "Have fun with Flake's horse?"

"He nuzzled me more than most women, so yes."

Richard chuckled, then smiled warmly as Till came back to the living room and flopped onto the couch beside him. 

"What do you have planned tonight?" Till enquired, putting his arm around Richard's shoulders. 

Richard shrugged. "Nothing. I've done everything I needed and wanted to do today. It's been lovely."

"Ah, good. Would you like to get drunk with me and watch terrible old movies in my room?"

Richard was absolutely ecstatic at the suggestion. 

"I would love to."

It took all of Flake's willpower not to angrily throw something in Till's direction as the pair scampered off to Till's bedroom, whiskey bottles in hand. It seemed Till was determined to let this rickety train of a relationship derail as quickly as possible.


	5. Making Another Mess of it All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till can't get it right.

Till slammed Richard against the wall. Richard cried out, his hands flying up to balance himself from the blow. 

"Take your fucking pants off," Till slurred, yanking his own off clumsily as he staggered backward. Richard swayed and obliged, nearly toppling over as he lost his balance. The room was spinning madly, but his mind was on a single, aroused track.

The two had downed enough whiskey to lay out normal men for a solid day, but Richard and Till were experts in alcohol consumption and were simply outrageously drunk. Flake had checked on them about 15 minutes earlier, and had simply said something about Till being a deaf donkey. Till had waved him away and proceeded to sloppily make out with Richard as an old 80's horror movie played in the background.

Now, he crushed himself against Richard, pressing him heavily into the wall as he crudely licked up the mans neck and throat. 

Richard whined, a sound that seemed to kick Till into a frenzy. His hands grabbed every bit of skin he could reach on Richard, scratching and gripping without care. He leaned hard into Richard, using him both for balance and for his body. 

"'m gonna fuck you, Rich," he slurred into Richard's ear. "Gonna fuck your ass till I cum, 'nd you're gonna take it, right?"

Richard's head was spinning and he could barely even hold himself up anymore, but thanks to Till's heavy body, he stayed propped up against the wall. He made whimpering noises in between heavy, disoriented breaths. He couldn't remember how they'd even gotten in the mood, and he guessed it didn't matter. His foggy brain insisted he wanted sex, and he allowed it without much choice.

Till suddenly dropped to his knees behind Richard and grabbed at his ass, spreading his cheeks and planting his face firmly between them. Richard yelped at the sensation of Till's mouth on his ass and nearly fell over again. Till didn't stay down for long though; his attention span was shot to hell with the liquor in his system. He clawed his way back up Richard's body, shoving him back into the wall with his large forearm across the back of Richard's neck. Till pressed his dick against Richard, awkwardly thrusting against him with uncoordinated hip jerks. 

Richard reached down and found his own cock and started jerking himself, enjoying the feel of Till against him, even if he hadn't penetrated. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, but was suddenly aware of Till spitting a string of awful curse words behind him. He turned around, one hand on the wall to steady himself, and saw Till attempting to jerk himself off as well. 

Richard hazily noticed that Till had somehow gone soft, and the term "whiskey dick" suddenly popped in his head. He chuckled at the thought and how ironic it seemed to his drunk mind. 

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Till snarled. 

Richard wanted to stop, aware that Till was probably mad, but the alcohol in his body was giving him a giggle fit that was impossible to stop. Till shoved him to the side, nearly upsetting his balance for the umpteenth time. 

"Your boyfriend with a limp dick is funny, ah?"

Richard shook his head, then suddenly realized the quick movement made the room spin impossibly fast. The sudden disorientation turned his stomach, and Richard knew he was about to be sick. 

He tried to indicate as much to Till, but the man was pissed off he guessed, and stalked to the other side of the room in a huff. Richard tried to look for a garbage can, but knew he'd not make it even if he found one. He dropped to his knees and fell forward onto his hands as he vomited onto the floor. He shuddered, then retched again, his body attempting to purge the copious amounts of alcohol in it. 

He didn't know how long he spent throwing up, but it felt like an eternity. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and sat back heavily. He felt absolutely horrific. His stomach hurt, his head hurt, and the room still spun. He looked back toward where Till had stomped off to.

"Till," he moaned. "Where're you?"

"Fuck off," came Till's muffled voice. Richard finally spotted him on the other side of the spinning room, sitting hunched in the corner with his head laid against the wall. 

"Till, c'mon," he slurred, climbing to his feet. He staggered sideways once upright, but stayed on his feet somehow. He made his way to Till, feeling an overwhelming need to hug him. Till looked sad.

"'m fuckin' serious, Rich," Till said again toward the wall. He sounded as if he were choking. 

Richard finally got to Till's side and basically fell rather than sat beside him. He was as suprised as his drunk mind would allow to see tears streaked down Till's face, his eyes downcast.

"Go the fuck away," Till said, but made no move as Richard flopped his arms around the man. Richard saw the tears flow even more freely. How was Till crying so quietly?

"I can't do it," Till mumbled. "Can't. Tried. Didn't work."  
Richard had no idea what Till was talking about, but he sounded so *sad.*

Richard pressed his head against the side of Till's.   
"It's okay," he tried to comfort. Till still didn't move, but continued his self-critical monologue.   
"Flake's right, 'm skewed. Can't function right. Manipulated you."

"I don't feel manipulated," Richard said with a yawn. The spinning had eased, but left a crushing exhaustion in its place. He didn't understand Till's words very well, but felt compelled to disagree with what sounded like Till criticizing himself. He hated when he did that.

"Stop doing that," he said. 

Till finally turned his head, his eyes red and cheeks thoroughly wet from tears. His gaze met Richard's sleepy blue one and found nothing but kindness in his eyes.

"You need t'go to bed," Till said, sniffing and wiping his face on his own shoulder to get away from Richard's concerned gaze. He was still cognizant enough to see how Richard was barely clinging to consciousness, and was thankful for that. He didn't want Richard seeing him cry.

Till stood to his feet, upsetting Richard's balance yet again. He reached down, and as if Richard were no more than a child, deftly picked him up in his arms. He was a bit unsteady, but he walked his friend over to the bed without incident and laid him down. Richard was very nearly asleep as Till found their trash can, having seen Richard's mess on the floor, and set it next to the bed, making sure Richard could see it. 

Till stood, swaying a bit as he looked over the man on his bed. Richard was now asleep, and Till felt a pang in his heart as he started snoring.

"Fuck," he murmured. "'m so sorry, Rich."

Till wanted to leave and never come back, but had a strong feeling that Flake would hunt him down just to kill him for being an idiot. He also doubted his feet would carry him more than a block before giving out.

He settled for falling into Oli's empty bed and turning his back to Richard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't stop writing tonight, and now I feel awful. 
> 
> This is the first chapter I feel like I have to apologize for, so, I'm sorry for the pain, readers. 
> 
> It will get better.


	6. His Needful Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is excessively hungover, but still manages to stumble onto an important realization

It was yet another morning of waking up far too early with a head that felt like it was about to explode. Richard groaned as he tried to sit up, noting the vomit on the floor and in the nearby trash can next to the bed. He felt like death warmed over, and that was putting it nicely. 

He tried to flail an arm to reach for Till, craving the man's closeness, but found the bed empty. Puzzled, Richard turned and saw he was indeed the only one in it. Perhaps Till had gone out already, he thought.

He glanced at Oli's bed, and was surprised to see Till flopped across it, his legs half dangling from the side. He chalked it up to their drunkenness last night.

Richard attempted to gather the fragmented bits of his memory from the night before, suprised he could remember anything at all due to the severity of his hangover. 

He recalled them taking a shot every time they decided a scene in whatever movie they'd watched was corny, then quickly shelving the idea when they were drunk within the first 20 minutes. He seemed to remember them having sex, but didn't feel the expected soreness from it. Maybe he'd topped?

Regardless, he did remember waking up a few hours earlier to be sick again. That second bout of vomiting had probably saved him from the very worst of his hangover. While bad, he knew it could have been infinitely worse. He sighed and looked over at Till. He wondered if the man would be in a similar state of pain when he woke up.

With a groan, Richard rolled off the bed and grabbed a towel to clean up his mess. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at himself, but was thankful it hadn't stayed in his body to fuck him up even more, at least. 

Richard took the trash can along with the used towel to the bathroom, putting the towel in the laundry and cleaning out the trash can. While in the bathroom, he stuck his face under the faucet to gulp some cold water. He swished his mouth out to get rid of the awful taste, and then looked in the mirror.

While he expected to see just a very ragged looking version of himself, he certainly hadn't expected to see a bruise formed around his left eye. It hurt, Richard noted after an experimental poke at it. He rolled his eyes, figuring he'd probably fallen and knocked his head into something while drunk.

He decided a hot shower would likely help his hangover bit, or at least wash the sour smell off of him. He was suprised to find his body was covered in bruises, of the fingerprint variety. He sighed good naturedly. The sex must have been quite fun. He wished he could remember more than sporadic groping.

Well, there was certainly time for more of that to come, he thought with a smile as he finished his shower. He toweled off and went back to Till's room after downing some painkillers. His headache had lessened to a dull throb, and he wanted to see if he could get a few more hours of sleep to finish off the hangover. Plus, it would give him a chance to cuddle.

Till was still dead asleep, still in the exact same position when Richard went back in, so he crawled gently beside him after scooting his legs back onto the bed, and then slid himself comfortably behind his massive frame. Richard liked how well he fit against Till's broad back, and he happily stroked the dark hair that covered the man's arm. He pulled the blankets up over them both, since Till had kicked them off to the side (or perhaps hadn't bothered to get under them in the first place). 

Richard snuggled his head happily into the crook of Till's neck and breathed in his scent. Till always had a particularly masculine smell about him, consisting of a mixture of sweat and dirt scents. He loved it. Richard yawned, and then squeezed Till's sleeping body as he felt himself quickly becoming sleepy himself. He dozed off lightly, more content and comfortable than he ever expected to be.

\------  
Richard was startled awake by Till suddenly kicking him and shouting. He shot up in a daze at the commotion. 

"What's wrong?" he asked in a panic, reaching out for Till as reflex.

Till was sitting up, breathing heavily as if he'd just gotten done sprinting somewhere, and was absolutely covered in sweat. He wiped his face with his hand and sighed.

"Fuck, sorry Richard. Just a nightmare, and didn't expect you to be in bed here. You ok? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Richard shook his head and yawned, and Till's eyes widened as he looked at Richard's face.

"Oh goddammit," Till groaned. "Come here." He grabbed Richard's face suddenly and pulled his head close, examing it. "Your eye looks awful."

"Yeah, I saw. Must have bumped into something last night."

Till's eyes suddenly grew dark and he let go of Richard as if he'd been burned.  
"Do you not remember last night?" he asked carefully.

Richard frowned and shook his head. "Was it from the sex or something?"

Till's eyes hardened even further and he pursed his lips. "No," he said flatly. "We didn't have sex."

Richard was confused. He could have sworn he remembered it, but guessed he was too drunk to even have coherent snippets of memory.  
"How'd it happen, then? And I'm covered in fingerprints. Not complaining, just a bit lost."

"I tried to have sex with you but was too drunk. Couldn't keep it up." Till's voice remained flat, as if he were reciting something incredibly boring, but Richard could see pain in his eyes, hidden amongst the darkness. That must have been embarrassing for him, Richard guessed. 

"I'm sorry," he sympathized, rubbing Till's leg comfortingly. "That's never a pleasant thing."

Till pulled his leg away. "It wasn't enjoyable, no."

Richard didn't want to push, but was still very curious. "And my eye?"

Till swallowed, the only indication that he was feeling any emotion whatsoever through his stony face. "I pushed you out of the way and you hit one of the picture frames on the wall."

"Is that why you're so upset?" Richard rolled his eyes "Please, Till, that's absolutely nothing. We were drunk; these things happen."

"They shouldn't," Till said brusquely, getting up from the bed.

"Till, come back to bed," Richard pleaded. "You don't have to get up yet, and I'd like to know why you're so upset. If it's something I did, just tell me."

Till pulled on a pair of pants and plastered a horribly fake smile on his face. "No, you'd really not like to know. Trust me. And it wasn't you."

Richard got indignant. "And who are you to decide what information to share or not share with me, especially if it's upsetting you? I'm not a child, Till."

"And I'm not your boyfriend," Till shot back, turning to face him. "We aren't dating. This isn't a serious relationship, and believe me when I say you are far better off with that being the case."

Till snapped his mouth shut after that last sentence, and Richard saw regret plaster itself across his features.

"You're angry," Richard said coolly. He knew getting irritated wouldn't help anything, and it was clear Till didn't mean it. "I just want to know why. I know nothing from you. Anytime we talk, I'm the one pressured to share and open up, not you."

Till winced when Richard said the word "pressured." He was getting to the bottom of this through Till's body language, he realized. Perhaps that was a good way to keep going. 

"Is that it?" Richard asked. "You feel like you're pressuring me?" Till looked away and tried to busy himself finding a shirt in his various laundry piles.  
"No, come back here. It's your turn to look at me and talk."

Till sighed, then did as Richard said, sitting back on his heels and looking up at him. Richard was immediately reminded of Till in the same position, just a few days ago, begging him to talk. Now the roles were reversed, it seemed.

"Do you feel like you're pressuring me?" Richard asked. Till slowly shook his head, but Richard took note of a very worried expression. 

"Maybe pressured isn't the word you're concerned with. Is it that idea? Do you feel like you're, what, forcing me to do something? Encouraging? Manipulating?"

Ah, there it was. Pain flashed through Till's eyes like lightning, and Richard knew he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Why on earth would you think you're manipulating me?" Richard asked, bewildered. "And how?"

"I really don't want to talk about this," Till said in a very low voice. He sounded almost haunted.

"Well, it sounds like you need to. I'm not going to do what we did before and let things fester or try to ignore them, and you're not going to either, regardless of whether I have to sit you down and drag things out of you. If that's what this takes, I'll do it."

"You do realize I can get up and leave whenever I wish, don't you?" Till asked. Richard wasn't entirely sure he wasn't joking. 

Richard's mind raced for a minute, then an idea struck him.

"Please stay here for a minute. I'll be right back," he said. 

Till sighed, but said, "Fine."

Richard ran out to his room, quietly tiptoeing around a sleeping Paul, to find one of his luggage trunks. He dug around for a minute, being careful not to be too loud, and found what he was looking for. He gently padded out of the room and back into Till's.

Till blinked at him when he offered the item to him. 

"A collar?"

"Put it on," Richard demanded.

Till rolled his eyes. "Richard, I am *definitely* not in the mood for sex shit right--"

"Put the fucking collar on or I'll do it for you." Richard's voice had dropped to a much lower register, almost a menacing one. "It's not for sex. It's to put you in your fucking place."

Till's entire behavior changed in a snap. He quickly took the offered collar and buckled it around his neck. He sat back on his heels again, staring and waiting. 

"Good," Richard said. He could see familiarity in Till's eyes, recognizing the same voice he'd gotten used to in the past several weeks.

"Now you're going to tell me *exactly* what's bothering you. I don't care if you don't like it. I don't care if you don't want to. You're going to detail it for me and explain what's making you feel as though you're manipulating me."

"Yes sir," Till said, dropping his eyes to the floor. 

"And keep your eyes up here," Richard used his foot to point Till's chin up to force his gaze to meet his own. 

"Yes sir," Till said again, then put his hands together and pressed them into his lap like an obedient school boy.

"Go ahead and speak." Richard crossed his arms and stared down at Till. He almost couldn't believe this was working.

"Flake mentioned it yesterday," Till began, his mouth twitching a bit. He truly didn't want to talk about this, Richard saw. But he knew Till needed to let it out.  
"He said his guess is that I'm using sex to manipulate you; that I'm afraid to be open, so I delay or outright deny being emotionally intimate by being physically intimate."

He paused, waiting for further instruction. 

"Is that it?" Richard asked. "That's the only reason you're upset?"

"No."

"No what?" Richard felt the need to press his dominance. 

"No, sir," Till corrected. 

"Then what else?"

Till chewed on his bottom lip, but maintained eye contact. It was clearly a struggle for him.

"Speak, Till," Richard demanded. 

"I hurt you. I didn't mean it, but it was still my fault. I can't let that go. It's not going to disappear with you telling me it's fine, just as your guilt over the past couldn't leave despite my telling you that you were forgiven."

Till looked utterly miserable. His chin trembled, but he kept his expression very neutral. Richard felt awful for the man, but then it dawned on him. 

"You want to be punished, don't you?" He was amazed the realization hadn't come to him sooner. "You need it."

Till nodded, wincing a bit. 

"What?" Richard demanded. "Speak your mind. Why do you feel badly about that?"

"It's not really that," Till said hesitantly. 

"Be specific and clear."

"I'm ashamed," Till finally admitted, his eyes dropping to the ground.

"You will look at me when you speak to me," Richard commanded, reaching down and grabbing Till's jaw to force his face back up. "Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Tell me what it is, and give me the reason behind it, not just whatever it is." He let Till's jaw go.

"I'm ashamed. It makes me feel ashamed that I need to be beaten to feel better. That was why I wanted the anonymous meetings, so I could feel the relief without someone needing the explanations for it. It makes me afraid that I'm broken and can't feel or function like a normal person."

His voice choked a bit and he stopped speaking. Richard saw worlds of pain behind the man's eyes; so much that it was threatening to overflow into tears. 

Richard wanted to run over to him, hug him, kiss him, insist everything was fine and that he was perfect how he was. But he didn't. He knew it would be akin to insulting the man right now as he was under Richard's control. 

Richard knew what Till needed, and the fact that the universe had brought them together in such a way solidified in his mind that they were destined for one another. Till needed him, both as a friend and as something more, and Richard felt absolutely thankful he could meet those needs. 

"You need me to punish you," Richard stated again.

After swallowing, Till said, "Yes sir. Please."

Richard nodded. "I can do that. And afterward, we're going to just lay in bed together. No sex, no talking. Just be together."

Till eyes showed both relief and a strong lessening of pain.  
"Yes sir."

Richard nodded again. "Good."


	7. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard realizes he needs to punish Till. How far should the punishment go?

Richard was slightly nervous. This was very different from an anonymous whipping for two hours in a tiny, dingy hotel room. 

His hands trembled a bit as he rummaged in one of Till's locked totes for his BDSM gear. Till had given him the keys, insisting he keep them now. 

Richard had been a little lost on how best to punish Till, but recalled he had several weeks worth of correspondence saved in his emails, explicitly detailing exactly what Till wanted. Additionally, Richard now had firsthand experience in what he needed. He knew he would do just fine; he just needed to settle back into his role.

After texting Oli to be sure he'd not need to get in his room for the next hour or so and then refreshing himself in Till's preferences, Richard had started mentally planning Till's punishment as he looked through the BDSM accessories. Caning seemed a bit too harsh, and while Richard enjoyed using the flogger, he didn't feel like drawing blood. He knew Till wanted it to hurt, and the flogging tended to end in cuts.

His hands found a riding crop that caught his eye. The handle was braided leather, black and silver, with a stiff, thin body that ended in an elegantly inscribed leather flap at the end. Till certainly didn't skimp when it came to quality, Richard thought, admiring the whip and turning it over in his hands. 

Richard gave an experimental whack on his palm and smiled at the sharp noise it made. He looked over at Till, sitting cross legged on the floor where Richard told him to wait, collar still fixed around his neck. His eyes were trained dutifully on Richard, watching him intently. 

This whip would do just fine, Richard decided. He walked over to Till, rehearsing in his mind what he wanted to say and do.

He stood over Till, then said evenly, "Go to the bed and take off your pants."

Till obeyed, kicking his trousers toward another laundry pile. He stood next to the bed, his head slightly bowed as he watched and waited for Richard's next commands. 

"Bend over and wait," Richard instructed. Till did so, and Richard couldn't help but admire the man's backside and thighs presented to him. He clamped down on the dirty thoughts and focused. This wasn't sexual today; Till needed strict punishment only. 

"What have you done wrong? Why do you need to be punished?" Richard walked over to Till's side.

"I hurt you in anger," Till said, his voice calm. He turned his head to face Richard when he heard him approach. 

"No, turn around," Richard corrected. "You don't need to look at me to answer."

Till nodded, and Richard smacked the whip against Till's ass with a very satisfying crack. Till flinched hard. He'd not been ready for that. 

"You say "yes sir" to me."

"Yes sir," Till said quickly. 

"And you'll speak if I tell you to, not before."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now, tell me again why you're being punished."

"Because I hurt you when I was angry."

"That's right. You hurt me while angry, so I have to hurt you as well. You can't let your anger loose like that, even if you're drunk. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Put your hands behind your head and don't move them." Richard tapped his arm with the whip gently.

"Yes sir." Till obeyed, his torso and head now laying flat on the bed. 

Richard took another long moment to admire Till's body, appreciating the firmness along his upper arms, but softness around his hips and thighs. He stroked the end of the crop across Till's shoulders and down to his buttocks. 

"Why are you being punished?"

"Because I hurt you in anger."

Richard slammed the whip across Till's cheeks. The submissive man didn't flinch this time.

"I want you to count each stroke, thank me for each one, and tell me that you'll never even so much as touch me in anger again, every time."

"Yes sir," Till said, his voice smooth and calm. It seemed Richard needed to break him out of being comfortable. He might end up using the flogger after all if he can't get through to him with the riding crop.

"One," Till's voice was clear and purposeful. "Thank you. I will never touch you in anger again."

"Very good." Richard whipped him again, slightly harder. Till remained perfectly still, though Richard was sure that one had stung. 

"Two. Thank you. I will never touch you in anger again."

Richard really put his back into the next swing. The loud crack echoed off the walls, but Till barely so much as winced. Richard was a bit stumped as Till recited his lines. He had been so open about the pain before in the hotel. Was he holding back now knowing it was Richard doling out the punishment?

He decided to switch the spot of his strikes to test and see whether Till were being stubborn, or if Richard actually did need to use something stronger. He struck across the upper parts of Till's thighs, just below the slight curve of his ass when he remembered that was a particularly sensitive spot last time. 

Till's legs flinched, pressing into the side of the bed at that hit. Good, Richard thought as Till counted and recited. At least he could get some kind of reaction from the man.

He drew back and whipped the exact same spot, much harder. Till grunted with that one, and when he said his lines, Richard was satisfied to hear the tiniest lacing of pain in his voice.

He continued until the man had counted to 20. His ass and the upper parts of his legs were bright red with welts scattered across them. Richard admired both his handiwork as well as the tremble in Till's voice as he recited his last line. 

"Very good, Till," Richard praised. "You did well, but I don't think you've learned your lesson yet."

He watched Till's face carefully when he said that, watching for any sign he wasn't ready for more. They kept their safe words the same as back at the hotel, but Richard wanted to be sure. Till showed no negativity at all, and simply said "Yes sir" yet again.

Richard got an idea that pleased him, and one he knew would break Till's defenses handily. 

"Come here," he motioned for Till to follow him to the wall next to the bed. Till obeyed wincing ever so slightly as he stood up. Richard was sure the welts chafed a bit.

"Stand with your back to the wall, and hold your hands together behind your back. 

With another "Yes sir," Till did so. He was a beautiful sight, Richard thought adoringly. His biceps bulged a bit in that position, and seeing his bare front was always a delight for Richard. The thick black collar was the perfect touch of leather that complemented his overall rugged look.

Richard went back to the trunk and swapped the crop for his familiar flogger. He wasn't going to use it for long, but it would be used very well, in his opinion.

One of the things Till had brought up in their emails that stuck out to Richard was the dual nature of his masochism. Though he both loved and desired pain, Till had very specific mental compartments for it. 

During sex, any form of pain translated to pleasure.

When being punished, he needed the pain to truly *hurt.* That was why the length of their sessions had been significant. He wanted the prolonged time because of the pain layered on pain. He'd explained there was a threshold he needed to reach where the pain stopped being pleasurable to him, but crossed into a sort of catharsis where he felt relief.

That was what Richard was aiming for now. If he could break through Till's stubbornness-- get past the walls he'd seemingly built up against Richard without having to spend hours beating him-- he knew they'd be able to take a significant step forward, together.

Richard returned to Till, who watched him curiously but quietly. 

"Close your eyes," Richard instructed. Till did as he was told with an appropriate "Yes sir."

Richard thought about explaining what he was about to do and what he expected from Till, but decided that simply doing it with no warning would achieve the end goal more speedily. 

He beat the flogger directly across Till's broad chest in an arcing motion. 

Till sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, immediately flinching away from the pain. 

"You are being punished for losing control," Richard explained, moving to the other side of Till's body. "And you will not speak until I am done here."

He struck again, harder. 

Till gasped outright as his body stiffened this time. Richard saw his eyes flutter, but stay closed. He was fighting to stay still and keep his hands behind his back. That was good. 

"You are also being punished for hiding yourself," Richard continued. He saw a brief moment of puzzlement on Till's face, despite his eyes staying closed. Good. He was focusing on Richard's words, not just the pain. He beat across Till's reddening chest again. 

This time, Till let loose a short, high pitched noise that reminded Richard of a whine from a dog. He was getting through. 

"You are also being punished for not allowing yourself the freedom to express your emotions to me."

Richard waited a few heartbeats longer before whipping across Till's body, lower this time, hitting along the man's lower abdomen. Till's mouth opened in a quick moan of pain, and he saw the man gritting his teeth in a grimace. He wasn't used to the bite of the flogger on the front of his body. This was very good.

"You are being punished so you can learn." Richard followed his words with another immediate whipping, moving back up to the top of his torso. He slightly miscalculated his aim, however, and a strand hit along Till's throat. 

The shock of the pain on his neck must have been blinding, Richard thought. Till's body jerked sideways and a hand flew up from behind his back to grab his throat, but just as quickly moved back behind his body. He looked extremely worried, though his eyes stayed closed. Richard pounced on him, grabbing Till by the collar and pressing, just to show that he was solely in control.

"Stay still," he warned, his voice low and menacing. "You're being punished. If you keep moving, it will only get worse."

Till nodded very, very quickly and uttered in a whisper, "Yes sir."

Richard held him tightly for a few more moments, then released him and stepped back. Till's chest was alight with reddened streaks, though Richard had yet to break the skin. He didn't especially want to, though; he just wanted to break through to Till's vulnerability. 

He sensed he was close. 

Till was trembling slightly, and Richard could see faint eye movements beneath the man's closed eyelids. He knew Till was on high alert. 

"Till, you're being punished for failing," Richard said. He didn't whip him yet, but he saw Till's body flex and tense in preparation for it. He decided to prolong the wait.

"You are being punished for failing to say what you needed to say. You are being punished because you forced me to push you and break you until you have no choice but to open yourself. You are being punished to help you remember that you don't need overwhelming pain to let someone help you. You're being punished because you need my help and you refused to admit it."

With that, Richard let loose a volley of strikes, criss-crossing them over Till's chest and abdomen until he saw Till's mouth fall open in a loud cry. He whipped once, twice, three times, knowing Till was on the verge and needed just a few more pushes. 

He hit once more, a strong blow that had his shoulder nearly in pain from the force of it. 

Till leaned his head back and yelled, a guttural wail that had his voice cracking halfway through. 

Richard saw an absolutely dramatic change. Till's body went from one taut with tension, to a release so strong he almost felt it himself. Till's muscles relaxed, his body slumped, his head lolled to the side. 

Most strikingly, Richard saw tears begin to leak from Till's closed eyes. His shoulders started heaving, and Richard realized the man had started sobbing violently. He wailed, agony in his cries as he stood with his hands still held obediently behind his back

He'd done it. Richard had broken through. 

He laid the flogger down on the floor and went to Till, pulling him away from the wall and cradling his shaking body. He shushed the man, squeezing his body close and rocking him slightly. 

Till was broken, as he needed to be, and Richard was simply holding the pieces of him together.

They stood in an embrace of trembling and crying for a long time, Richard just holding him and calming him with quiet noises. 

"It's okay, Till; your punishment is finished. You're okay, you're okay," he soothed. 

It took a very long time for Till to quiet himself, and Richard briefly wondered if he'd gone too far.

"Thank you," Till suddenly whispered as he clung to Richard like a child. "Thank you."

Richard just held him tighter in response. There was time for comforting words later. For now, he just held the man close.


	8. It's a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till invites Richard to join him with one of his favourite pastimes.

Till shivered when Richard started rubbing the cool balm against his chest. He'd done the same for his backside and thighs, but he still couldn't get used to the feel of the chilly ointment on his inflamed skin. 

This was nice, though. He felt spent, much the same way he felt after finishing a concert. It was a relieved feeling, like the relaxation of muscles after a yawn. He'd been absolutely blown away by Richard's keen insight, and even more so when he realized what he'd done had worked. He had stopped crying pretty quickly, but he still felt nearly overpowered by the sense of relief that had overwhelmed him in the first place. 

Was this what it felt like to start becoming emotionally intimate? It was a warm, comforted feeling of closeness and affection for the man gently applying cream to his wounds. This must be what Flake had been talking about. It was simply wonderful.

A part of Till was sorry he'd never bothered figuring this out before, as he'd clearly been missing out on something truly special. But he dismissed the negative thought quickly; he wanted to stay in the present, happy and content with his partner. 

He smiled at the thought of Richard as his partner. He'd not referred to him as such before, even mentally. But, he supposed that was exactly what he was. And Till was fine with that. 

He looked down as Richard finished rubbing his chest. 

"That welt on your neck is pretty bad," Richard mused. "I'm really sorry about that one. My aim was a little off." He began softly massaging more ointment onto Till's throat. 

Till shrugged. "I'm not worried about it. I am worried for your eye, though. That picture frame really got you."

It was Richard's turn to shrug. "It's a bit tender, but nothing that won't go away in a few days. It's not swelling or anything; just looks nasty."

"What are you going to tell the rest of the guys?"

Richard grinned at him. "Walked into a door, of course."

Till gave him an amused but disapproving look. "Flake has enough to criticize me for. I'd rather not have "domestic abuse" added to his already lengthy list."

Richard chuckled as he capped the ointment. "I'm kidding, of course. I was drunk and hit my face on the wall."

"I was mostly exaggerating about Flake; you don't need to cover for me. He knows how rowdy I get when I drink."

"Rowdy and apparently horny," Richard said, giving Till a quick peck on the lips. 

Till smiled at him. "What do you have planned today?"

Richard stood up from his seat on the bed next to Till and stretched, then said, "Nothing set in stone, why?"

"Would you like to go fishing with me? It's early enough that the fish will still be biting. I normally drink when I go, but I think I'll skip the alcohol today. My headache is telling me to take it easy, and I'm sure yours is too."

Richard pondered for a moment, but then agreed. "That sounds nice, actually."

"Excellent. Let's get dressed and head out, then."

After dressing in casual, comfortable clothes, they stopped off in the kitchen to grab some water bottles and some snack bars. 

Flake was busy yet again with breakfast, making something with eggs that smelled divine. He looked up when the two entered the kitchen and gave them a smile, which faded a bit when he spotted Richard's eye and Till's neck. 

"Are those good or bad wounds?" he asked, trying to sound neutral as he flipped the eggs. He couldn't keep all of the concern from his voice, though.

"Good," they both said in unison. They grinned at each other. 

Flake just nodded and said, "Good. You were both exceptionally drunk last night, but I didn't have the time to babysit you. I'd have felt a bit upset if you hurt yourselves the one time I didn't watch you."

Till waved a hand dismissively. "We're good. Better than good, actually. We're going fishing."

Flake met Till's eyes, and a knowing look passed between them. Flake smiled softly.  
"I'm truly glad."

Richard went digging through the pantry for their granola bars while Till threw some water bottles into a bag along with some sausages.

"Do you two want breakfast before you go? Schneider and Paul aren't awake yet, and I don't feel like rousing them."

"Unfortunately no. We need to get to the lake before it gets too late, and I need to pick up a rod for Richard still. Thank you, though."

"Do you know what time you'll be heading back?"

"Not sure at this point, but I'll let you know," Till said, stuffing the last of the sausages into a small bag.

"As long as you actually remember to do so this time," Flake said sarcastically. .

Till gave him an innocently sweet smile as he said, "Of course, dear Flake. I'd never leave you in the dark."

Flake rolled his eyes. "Actually, Richard, could *you* let me know what time you plan to be back? I might actually get a response from you."

Richard chuckled as he finished packing the snack bag. "Of course "

Till just rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Excellent. Well, I wish you two luck. Bring home some dinner."

\-------

An hour later found the pair sitting happily on the edge of a dock set on a beautiful little lake. It was cool, but not overly cold, and the morning sun shone bright and warmed them comfortably.

The water was calm, lapping gently at the pier beneath them as they dangled their legs off the end of it. It came as a suprise to Till, as Richard had never spoken of it before, but he was a fairly adept fisherman. He'd gotten himself a very decent rod, prepared it himself and had been the only one so far who'd caught anything, much to Till's disgruntlement. He had still admired how cute Richard's serious face was when he reeled in the first fish, despise his slight annoyance at his own lack of fish. The first fish had been too small, so Richard released it after ever so gently freeing it from his hook. He then proceeded to catch three more decently sized fish that they kept. 

They had sat mainly in silence, appreciating the beauty of nature and enjoying one another's company. 

Richard scooted closer to Till and pressed his shoulder against him before laying his head on Till's shoulder with a happy sigh. Till smiled and patted his partner's head.

"I need your opinion on something," Till began, throwing out his line again.

"Do tell," Richard said, slowly pulling at his rod to jiggle the lure.

"I've been thinking of dyeing my hair blonde."

Richard moved his head off of Till's shoulder to study his hair. "Hmmm. What kind of blonde?"

"Stark blonde; nearly white. I want it dramatic for the tour."

"You're dramatic regardless, Till."

Till chuckled as he slowly reeled in, hoping to entice the fish to his line for once. "You're one to talk, scholle."

Richard elbowed him in the ribs, but laughed at himself. "I think it would look fine, but it's hard to tell before it's actually done. I think you could pull it off."

"I think so too. I also want to get more piercings done."

"Why are you telling me?" Richard asked in a teasing voice. "Want my approval first?"

"I just wanted to know if you'd like it."

Richard planted a kiss on Till's cheek. "I'll like you regardless. You should do what makes you happy."

"Getting needles pushed through my skin makes me happy."

Richard shook his head. "You know, you always struck me as someone who would love getting tattoos done."

"And yet I dislike them immensely," Till added. "It would be nonsensical for me to put anything permanent on my body that I'd have to explain to others. Piercings you can remove, and scars are ubiquitous and dismissable. I'd rather not have people question pictures or words inked onto my skin."

"I know, I just meant you'd probably relish the feeling of getting them done."

"It's possible. Perhaps when I'm 79 and Rammstein finally ends, I'll consider it."

Richard groaned. "Please don't let us keep doing this into our 70s. I want to have *some* time to retire with."

The rod in Richard's hands suddenly dipped, and he sat up straight in concentration. Till reeled in his own empty line, baffled at why nothing had been biting on his line but devouring Richard's. 

Richard hauled up a good sized fish onto the dock. After assessing it, Till decided it was fit to be food, so they dropped it into their catch bucket with the others. 

"I can't believe I'm being out-fished by a man who hasn't fished in a decade," Till grumbled. "Normally I've caught my weight in fish by this point."

Richard looked over at him smugly, earning him an irritated huff as Till switched his lure for a piece of sausage. 

"Luckily," Til said, "I brought my secret weapon."

"I thought you brought those bratwurst for us to eat!" Richard protested. "Don't use it all for the fish; they were expensive. Flake would slap you if he knew you'd taken them for bait."

"We're going to eat the fish that eats the bratwurst," Till countered. "Circle of life, or something like that. The German version. And Flake can go fuck himself because I bought these myself. "

"Well whatever version, I still want to eat it. Give some here before you feed it all to the fish that you're not catching."

Till shot him a dirty look but gave him one of the sausages anyway. "Condescension from implied superiority is unbecoming, Herr Kruspe."

"Yeah, well, so is my attitude when I'm starving because you threw all our food to the fishes." Richard took a giant bite of his sausage for emphasis. 

Till was about to fire back with something equally as sassy, but was interrupted by his line pulling taut and dipping his bobber below the water. 

"There, see? Your hungry little stomach will thank me when I provide it with the best fish it's ever had, courtesy of a master fisherman's sausage."

Till reeled his line in, and up came the tiniest fish either of them had ever seen. 

Richard roared with laughter as Till struggled to get the minuscule fish off the hook, his jaw clenched in irritation. 

"You know what? I stand corrected, Till. You truly are a master fisherman, and I'm lucky to even be in your presence to witness your skills--"

Richard was interrupted by the tiny fish hitting him dead-on in the middle of his forehead with a wet slap. He sat shocked for a moment, mouth agape, as Till belly laughed in amusement at his face. 

Richard wiped the slime from the fish off his face, and then started giggling as well. Till grabbed him in a bear hug and forcefully kissed his cheek.

"You're lucky I love you," Till said, still hugging him.

Richard smiled broadly. "Yes. Yes I am."


	9. A Very Long Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING IN THE END-OF-CHAPTER NOTES  
> (Don't read if you want to avoid spoilers for this chapter)
> 
> Till shows Richard how to properly clean fish

Till was again surprised to learn that, despite all of Richard's fishing experience (and dumb luck-- Till refused to believe he'd been bested skill-wise), Richard had never cleaned and eaten his own fish before. 

As Till slit one of the fish open, tail to head on the dock, he nearly started laughing at the faces Richard made.

"Can't Flake do this himself?" Richard asked with a grimace as Till scooped out guts from each of Richard's fish. Till had given up on fishing after Richard caught two more and he'd only managed to snag a tree branch from the bottom of the lake.

"Good fishermen clean their own fish," Till insisted. "Now pay attention. After you take out the guts, you have to scrape your thumb down the spine to clean out the blood line, like this." 

Till ran his thumbnail down the inside of one of the fish's spines, scraping out what looked like a long blob of blood. Richard shuddered at the gore, prompting a smile from Till. He briefly thought about flinging the mess at Richard, but realized he was sitting very close to the edge of the pier, and the water was far too cold to risk being pushed into.

"Once you've got the guts and blood out, it's basically ready to cook."

"You don't take the scales off or anything?"

"No. Baking it like this keeps it moist. It doesn't look as nice as filets from the store, but it tastes immensely better. Just have to watch for the tiny bones."

Satisfied with the cleaned fish halves, Till packed them back into a cooler bag and wiped his fishing knife on his pant leg.

"Till, that's disgusting!" Richard protested. "Didn't you bring any towels or napkins?"

Till raised an eyebrow at Richard's offended face and picked up the fishing gear. "I don't like carrying bloody trash around with me. I'm not licking anything from my pant leg, so what's the problem? Were *you* planning on licking my pant leg?"

"You're disgusting," Richard said, shaking his head and crossing his arms as they walked back to the car. "No wonder you're constantly buying new pants-- you ruin yours with fish guts and blood."

"I'll have you know I've only ruined three pairs of pants with blood. They usually just end up tearing somehow."

"Probably from your thunderous erections," Richard quipped, barely able to keep a straight face.

Till grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Thunderous," ah? That's certainly not a term I've had used for my cock until now. I suppose it's fitting."

"Don't let it go to your head or I swear I'll never compliment it again."

The two giggled like children at various inappropriate jokes all the way back to the car. They tossed their gear into the trunk of the car and began the drive back to their flat. 

Till drove, occasionally glancing over at Richard who was fiddling with the ancient stereo system, trying to get a radio station on that worked. They'd taken Till's car instead of Paul's, and unfortunately it was a much, much older car. 

Richard gave up on the stereo with a huff, turning to look out the window.  
"I'm bored," he complained. "Let's play a game."

"All right," Till agreed. He was also a bit bored, and they still had close to a half hour's drive ahead. "What did you have in mind?"

"How about "would you rather?"

"Ja, that sounds fun. You go first."

"Hmmm," Richard pondered for a moment. "Would you rather be stuck on a deserted island with only Rammstein's discography, or only Brittney Spear's discography?"

"Spears," Till immediately answered. "Make it hard next time, scholle."

Richard made an exasperated noise. "Should have known. Your turn, then."

"Would you rather watch a distant family member suffer and die or a pet you'd raised from birth?"

"Jesus Christ, Till!" Richard exclaimed. "Why on earth did you go that dark so fast?"

Till shrugged in response, keeping his eyes on the road. "Yours was easy. This is harder, no?"

"Yes, but still. Ugh, I'd have to say seeing a human die would be harder, regardless of my attachment to the animal, so I pick the animal."

"Pet," Till corrected. "A pet you'd raised from birth, that you'd cherished and loved and treated like--"

"I understood the question just fine, Till," Richard interrupted. "It's my turn."

Till raised his fingers from the wheel in a "go ahead" motion. 

"Would you rather be covered in fur or in scales like a reptile?"

Till answered almost as soon as the words had left Richard's mouth, "Scales. Easier to keep clean and fits with Rammstein's aesthetic. Would you rather be forced to eat human flesh or watch someone eat your flesh?"

"Again, Till-- what the fuck with these questions? Can you not play for fun like a normal person?"

"This *is* fun," Till insisted. "Making you uncomfortable is very entertaining."

Richard sighed in irritation. "Fine. Um, I guess I'd rather see someone eat my flesh, assuming I wasn't dying and wouldnt miss the part of me they're eating."

There was a long pause as Richard thought up a question in return. He snapped his fingers and said, "I've got one, and it's plenty dark for you. Would you rather be raped by someone or shot by someone?"

Richard saw Till's jaw harden, but he didn't respond.  
"Come on, you wanted dark and morbid questions," Richard said teasingly.

Till didn't respond except for tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Richard swallowed nervously and backtracked, "Hey, I'm just fooling around. I'll ask another question and--"

"Considering I've been raped already, I would choose being shot." Till's voice was even, but tight, and his knuckles started turning white from how hard he held the steering wheel.

Richard's mouth snapped closed in suprise. He sat in silence for what felt like a year before finally saying, "Till, fuck. I'm so sorry. I was just playing around."

"It's fine," Till said tersely. "It was a very long time ago." He didn't ease his grip on the steering wheel. 

"Still, I feel awful that--"

"It is *fine*, Richard," Till said, his voice still tight. "I think I'm tired of this game now."

Richard nodded and said quietly, "Yeah, okay."

The two sat in painful silence for the remainder of the drive back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentioning of rape in this chapter, and for future discussion of it in depth.


	10. Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS IN NOTES AT THE END
> 
> Till wants to be left alone, but Richard refuses to let him pull away.

Till stalked into the house with Richard trailing close behind him. 

"Till, wait, can we talk?" Richard begged as Till tossed the fish cooler onto the kitchen counter.

"No, I don't think so," Till said, brushing past Richard and walking back to his room.

"You can't close off again, please Till. I can't take you being upset with me."

Till stopped at his door and turned to face Richard, his expression stony. "I'm not closing off, and I'm not upset at you. I just don't want to talk about this."

"We don't have to talk about that. I'll never bring it up again if that's what you want. I just don't want to feel this tension between us, and I'm afraid it won't go away if we don't talk now and get back to normal."

Till released a heavy breath as he looked at Richard's pleading face. "Fine." He opened his door and began picking up the clothes scattered around the floor. 

Richard stood awkwardly for a moment, then opted to help Till clean up.

"Um, so, how long have you been fishing?"

"Since I was a child." Till didn't look at Richard as he folded various shirts and pants, stuffing them into one of his travel chests. 

"Ah, okay," Richard said lamely. He started grabbing random socks and matching the pairs together. He was desperately wracking his brain to think of something to cut the tension piling up between them like an avalanche.

Just as he was about to grasp at another pointless question to break the silence, Till started talking, very quietly.

"I was 17. One of my swimming coaches cornered me in the shower after practice. He slammed my head against the wall and broke one of my teeth when he did it. That was really why I stopped swimming, not because of my injury. I couldn't be in the same room as him or I'd lock up and shake, and I couldn't function. I couldn't tell anyone because he threatened to ruin me, physically and in my career. Trainers were like gods, untouchable and faultless, which meant no one would have believed me even if I did speak up. So, I never said anything, until just now." 

Richard felt his heart breaking for the man. Till's face was solemn and incredibly calm. How he could talk about something so horrific and stay so even about it all was truly astonishing. 

"I'm so sorry, Till."

Till shrugged, but his face stayed serious. "It was a very long time ago."

"Why did you tell me? I mean, I'm glad you did, but you didn't have to."

"I know." 

Till sighed, and Richard finally caught the tiniest glimpse of pain run across the man's face. "I just didn't want you to feel bad for yourself. You didn't know any better, and I wanted to explain what happened for you to understand."

"Understand what?" 

Till seemed to struggle for words for a moment. "I want you to understand me."

He finally met Richard's sympathetic gaze. 

"You asked me in the car why my mind dives to horrible places. You've asked before why my lyrics consistently jump into awful subject matters, and why my poetry is so dark and twisted. Everyone asks why I treat pain like my oldest, closest friend. That's because it is. Pain has been the single most consistent thing in my life. It's like a brother to me, familiar and comforting. When I busy my mind with darkness, filth, and horror, the very worst things in my memories don't have room to surface. I'm able to use pain the same way. When my mind is focusing on the good pain, there's no place for the bad pain to rise up. I would crumble into nothing more than a shameful ghost of a man if I didn't have the distractions of pain and darkness. That's what I wanted you to understand."

With his declaration finished, Till went back to calmly folding and packing his shirts. 

He flinched a bit when he felt Richard sit next to him and gently hug him. He braced himself for a bombardment of well-meaning but useless, sympathetic words from Richard, but they never came. Richard simply held him quietly. 

Till tried to feel grateful for the affection, knowing Richard wanted to comfort him, but he couldn't. He felt the roaring of shame throughout his body, noisy and overpowering. His breathing tightened painfully, and he felt the familiar, sickly cold tingling in his body that warned him of an impending anxiety attack. 

His mind raced, desperately trying to think of something other than himself at 17, being shoved against the cold, slippery tile wall, crying and begging his coach to stop as blood intermingled with the shower water and swirled down the drain. 

Till felt his heart thundering in his ears and he got desperate. Richard would *not* see him have a panic attack, no matter what it took.

Till suddenly grabbed Richard's face and crushed his lips to him, growling and grabbing at his clothes. 

"I want to fuck you," he said with a snarl, hurriedly taking his shirt off

Richard's eyes widened in suprise. "Are you sure? I don't think--"

"Shut up. I am *going* to fuck you." He unbuttoned his pants and threw them across the floor. 

Richard seemed unsure, but slowly agreed. "All right, if that's what you want."

"Shut up," Till commanded again. "Get your fucking pants off."

Richard nodded and obeyed. Perhaps this was Till's way of working through his trauma, though Richard had a sinking feeling it wasn't. 

As soon as his pants were down, Till roughly grabbed him and put him on his hands and knees on the floor. He got the bottle of lube from under the bed and messily coated his dick with it. 

Richard felt slightly uncomfortable, bothered that Till had switched so quickly between emotions, but tried to focus on the sight of Till jerking himself with the lube. Richard did likewise, and quickly started to get in the mood, his body beginning to respond to the stimulation. Richard dropped his head, still stroking himself, beginning to enjoy the feeling of his cock stiffening in his hand. 

Richard got distracted as he suddenly heard Till behind him.

"No, no, fuck no, fucking shit."

Richard looked back, and immediately lost all previous arousal as he saw Till had gone soft, despite him trying desperately to pump at himself. 

"Till, it's okay, we don't need to have sex,' Richard said, but his reassurance fell on deaf ears. 

"No no no, I need this, I fucking need this, please, please just fucking work!"

Richard felt his gut twist as Till gave up, sinking to his knees and gripping his head in his hands. He beat his fist on the floor hard, and Richard worried he might have broken something. Till started hyperventilating and trembling, making Richard immediately more concerned. He moved over to Till's side quickly, holding him by the shoulders and trying to make him look at him. 

"Till really, it's okay, I swear. I didn't especially want to have sex right now, it's ok."

Richard held the man's head up, but Till's eyes were unfocused and he continued to gasp in short breaths, his trembling turning into violent shaking. 

"What's wrong? Fuck, Till, are you okay?

Till shook his head and whispered through gritted teeth, "No."

"Shit, I don't know what to do. What's wrong? What do you need? Do I need to take you to a hospital or something?"

Till shook his head again, and Richard started to panic. "I don't know what to do, Till. Do I need to call Flake?"

"No."

"What do I do?" Richard was holding Till's shoulders tightly, trying to look him in the eye. 

Till finally dragged his eyes to Richard's, and whispered, "Leave me alone."

"No, you're not going to be alone here like this, I just need to know how to help you."

"Help me by leaving," Till rasped at him, curling into a tight ball on the floor and holding his head. "Go away."

Richard was conflicted. He had no idea what to do for him, yet leaving seemed like a terrible idea. Till had pulled away from him and stayed on the floor, his head buried under his arms. 

Richard tried to get him talk, but Till just lay, shaking and panting in short breaths. 

"I'm going to call Flake. I'll be right back; I just have to get my phone, okay? I'll be right back." 

Till made no indication he'd heard him. 

Richard sincerely did not want to leave, but he also didn't know what to do. He'd never seen Till like this. If anyone knew how to help, it would be Flake. 

He raced out of Till's room and into the living room where he'd tossed his phone when he got home. He hurriedly dialed Flake, relieved that he picked up almost immediately.

"Ja?"

"Flake I need your help. Till's comatose on the floor, he just curled up and started shaking and I don't know what to do. He won't speak anymore."

"Did he use any drugs? Is he breathing?" Flake's voice was taught with concern.

"No, no, he's breathing but hyperventilating. He was just…" Richard debated whether he should divulge Till's trauma or not. "He was telling me about something bad that happened to him, then he just seized up and stopped talking."

"He's having a panic attack," Flake said, his strained voice slightly eased. "He'll be all right in a bit. He just needs to calm down. Can you just sit with him until I get there? We can't do very much, unfortunately. He has to ride it out."

"Yeah, yeah I can stay with him," Richard breathed in relief.

"Good. I'll be there in five minutes." Flake hung up and Richard released a shaky breath. He went back to Till's room and was surprised to find the door shut. He tried opening it, but it was locked.

"Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Rape, anxiety/panic attacks, violence against a minor, sexual assault of a minor


	11. Locked Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS AT END OF CHAPTER NOTES
> 
> Till is alone, and regrets it. He's pushed Richard away yet again, and now can't even move when he realizes he's made a grave mistake.

Till only heard muffled pounding at his door as his head was tightly covered back over with his arms. He couldn't even tell if the pounding truly was at the door, or if it was his heart beating loudly enough to deafen him. He'd managed to get up and lock the door as Richard left, turning the light off as well, but collapsed right back onto the floor beside the door. He was curled into a ball and shaking as his breath came in short gasps. Richard didn't deserve to see him like this, had been his only coherent thought.

Flashbacks of the worst day of his life refused to leave his brain, replaying the same scene over and over and over. The cold of the tile wall on his face as he was smashed into it, the heat of the older man against him, the pain that permeated far beyond the physical-- all of it kept playing on a endless, torturous loop in his mind. 

He'd tried so hard; so very, very hard to keep those memories locked away, never to be acknowledged again. But here they were, and they were somehow even more vivid, more crystal clear than when they'd been buried.

Till whimpered and tried to beat the ground with his fist but couldn't get the energy. His hand hurt, but the pain didn't even make a dent in his relentless flashbacks. He needed the pain, needed much more of it, but couldn't force his body to obey any longer. He was trapped in the past and couldn't get out.

He wished he could cry. Crying always seemed to make people feel better afterward, but tears weren't coming: only waves of shame and guilt that he couldn't understand. 

He heard a voice, something was being called between poundings. It had to be the door. His pulse was too fast to be the noise he was hearing. 

He could make out his name. Someone was calling his name. Till felt as though he were being crushed by an invisible mountain, and it made even turning his head seem like an absolutely monumental task, but he tried anyway. He dragged his face along the floor until he was facing the door. Light streamed from under the crack of the door, and he saw two long shadows. 

It was Richard. Richard was beating against the door, telling him to open it. Even if Till wanted to, he felt he couldn't move. Though the door was only a foot from his body, it was too far. The world was on his back, crushing him into oblivion.

A whimper fell from his mouth again amidst his tremors. He wanted Richard to come back. He'd made a mistake locking him out, and now he couldn't even get up to unlock the door. 

The shadow beyond the door suddenly shifted, and he heard Richard's voice a bit more clearly. He'd laid his head down on the floor to look under the crack of the door for him. 

"Till," he heard his partner's voice, begging. "Please unlock the door. Please let me help you."

Till could only managed a muffled cry as he stretched his hand across the floor toward the light under the door. 

Richard must have been able to see him, because he slid his fingers under the door toward Till's body. He couldn't reach very far, but it was enough. Till was able to touch Richard's outstretched fingers and clutch at them weakly. Though Richard held his hand, firmly, whispering encouragement, Till couldn't understand it past the roaring in his head. 

But Richard's touch kept him grounded. He wouldn't be swept away forever, or crushed beyond help as long as he held Richard's hand. 

He stayed, trembling and panting for centuries before he heard more talking outside the door. He gripped more tightly onto Richard's hand as he felt him pull back, but he finally slipped away. 

Till wondered if his own soul had left with Richard. It felt like it.

He heard a key clanking in the door, then it suddenly opened and light spilled into the darkened room. He was immediately swept up into Richard's arms, though he barely felt it. Richard held him tightly, attempting to save him from his own mind as he muttered words of comfort. Till's head was pulled next to Richard's face, and he saw the outline of Flake in the doorway behind him. The man bent down to meet his eyes, and reached a hand out to press on his cheek. Flake's hand was warm against his clammy skin, and Till leaned into the touch.

"I'm so sorry, bärchen," Flake murmured, stroking Till's stubbled cheek. Till felt part of himself return hearing the old stupid nickname.

Richard was still holding him close, continuously whispering encouragements and comforts in his ear. Till was warmed by the body heat, and the tightness of Richard's grip made him feel secure.

They sat together, all three, for a very long time.

\--------------

Some time later that evening, Till had nearly fully returned to himself. He sat with Richard on the couch, both wrapped tightly together in a blanket. Till had a bowl of the leftover soup that Flake had warmed for him.

He wanted to try apologizing to them both when he calmed down, but he knew neither would hear it. Till wasn't sure what Richard had told Flake, but he'd not pestered Till with any questions at all, aside from asking if the soup were too hot. 

Richard was glued to his side, constantly holding either his hand or his arm when his hand needed to hold his bowl. Part of Till wanted to be annoyed at the clinging, but was both too thankful that Richard had come back for him, as well as far too tired. It was as if all of his energy had leaked out of him on the floor, and he was left exhausted and nearly numb.

Till winced as he picked up his spoon to eat the soup. Flake immediately noticed, and asked in a kinder voice than he normally would, "Did you hurt your hand?"

Richard reached for his hand, causing Till to grunt in pain at the touch.

"I'm sorry," Richard quickly apologized. His touch turned extremely gentle as he inspected the dark bruising across the knuckles. "It hurts that badly?"

Till grimaced as Richard very carefully touched along his knuckles, and nodded reluctantly. 

"He's broken it," Flake assessed as he sat back, also having looked at the hand as Richard held it. "It's not too bad, I don't think. We can wait until tomorrow to see to it, as long as he doesn't hurt it further."

Richard nodded, while Till said nothing. He was too tired to argue. He released the spoon from his left hand and switched to his right, awkwardly. 

"Here, let me help." Richard tried to take the spoon from Till's hand. 

Till snorted and made a face. "Absolutely not. You are *not* going to feed me."

Flake chuckled at Till's indignance, as well as in relief. It was the first he'd spoken since they'd gotten him off the floor. 

Richard smiled at that. Till was coming back to himself and it relieved him more than he could express.  
"Fine, go ahead and do it yourself. See if I care when you dump soup across your lap because you suck using your off-hand."

The corners of Till's mouth twitched at that. He didn't feel like laughing yet, but that was okay. He didn't need to paste on a fake smile and pretend everything was perfectly fine. His friends knew he would be all right, and deep down, he knew it too. That was all he needed.

Till soon fell asleep, pressed tightly against Richard with a half eaten bowl of soup still in his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS  
> Recalled violence/sexual assault against a minor, panic/anxiety attack


	12. Waiting Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard takes Till to get his hand checked out. Richard hates hospitals.

Throbbing pain woke Till very early in the morning. The window shade was open, and he could just barely see the beginning hints of color across the dark sky, signaling dawn.  
Pain drew his eyes away from the sunrise and down to his hand. It was pulsing in time with his heartbeat, each thump a strong ache. He marveled for a few moments at the colorful display of bruising across his knuckles and the puffy swelling around it. His pinky finger wasn't extending up all the way, and he was forced to bite his tongue hard to keep from hissing in pain when he tried to force it. He gave up and let it stay slightly bent.

On a much lesser pain-scale, his neck was quite stiff from how he'd been sleeping. He raised his body slightly, realizing he was on the couch. He had fallen asleep laying back on Richard 's front, enveloped in his arms. Richard was snoring quietly, and Till felt a brief moment of shame about the incident the night before. Luckily, he was still very tired, and the pain in his hand was distracting him enough that he didn't dwell on the negative feelings. 

Till sat up fully, scooting slightly away from Richard to take his weight off him. He felt cumbersome and oafish when he was sleepy and didn't want to crush Richard, though he'd somehow been comfortable enough to sleep the entire night under Till's weight.

Till's stirring awakened his human pillow, who blearily reached for him again.  
"Mm, stay," he mumbled, pulling Till back against him. Till allowed himself to ease back down onto Richard's chest, more carefully distributing his weight.

Richard inclined his head down, his eyes still nearly closed and kissed the top of Till's head. He nuzzled him sleepily for a moment, then settled. His breathing slowly became more regular as he drifted back to sleep with his face still in Till's hair.

Till felt himself following Richard, his eyes drooping despite the pain in his hand. He was being lulled into an overwhelming sense of ease. His body rose and fell with Richard's breathing as he laid on the man's chest, enjoying the arm wrapped around him. Richard's heartbeat was faint, but Till could hear its steady, comforting thuds from his chest. 

Maybe he could just close his eyes for a few more minutes before getting up to take care of his hand...

\------------

The second time Till woke, the sun was fully risen, bright and hot through the window and shining directly in his eyes. He squinted in annoyance and tried to shield his face from the glare. 

He gasped and sat up sharply in pain when he tried to move the fingers on his broken hand. Richard started awake beneath him, and Till immediately felt terrible for waking him so abruptly. 

"You ok?" Richard asked, sitting up as well and rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, sorry Rich. Just moved my hand too much."

Richard yawned, and held his hand out for Till's. "Lemme see."

Till reluctantly set his hand in Richard's. He watched as Richard's eyes widened in shock, despite still looking sleepy.

"This is really bad, Till," Richard said, wincing sympathetically. "Your fingers aren't even straight. We're going to have to go to the hospital for xrays, not just splint it."

"We?" Till asked teasingly. 

Richard gave him an exasperated look, and Till chuckled softly before leaning close and kissing his lips gently. 

When he pulled back, he saw Richard's beautiful, sleepy smile grow on his face, and it in turn made him smile as well.  
"I guess it's a date," Till said.

Richard rolled his eyes and got up from the couch. Till took the time to admire the man in only his boxers who stretched out and rolled his neck. His muscles, though generally giving him a soft appearance, were still strong, and Till could see them bunching and flexing with his stretches. He loved seeing the man move. He was prettier than any artistic sculpture could ever hope to be.

"I think we should stick to a bed in the future," Richard suggested, grabbing his pants from a pile at the end of the couch. "The couch is a bit cramped with us both."

"Mmm," Till grunted absently, his eyes trailing up and down the back of Richard's body as he pulled on his jeans. Richard turned around, curious about the lack of interest in Till's response. As soon as he saw Till's face, he grinned.  
"Take a picture," he mocked, parroting Till's earlier teasings. 

"Tempting. I don't have my phone, unfortunately."

Richard shrugged as he grabbed a t-shirt and put it on. "Too bad. I like modeling."

With that, he turned and looked over his shoulder, one hand slightly pulling up his shirt on the side and shooting Till an especially smouldering look. He even bit his lip.

Till rumbled in desire, and Richard smirked at the very obvious arousal that showed under the blanket across Till's lap.  
"Looks like I still have it going on, eh?"

"You're certainly going to have *something* going on if you keep looking at me like that."

Richard tsk-ed, hunting around the couch for his shoes. "Not this morning, horn-dog. Hospital is priority one. Sex can be priority two."

"Can priority three be breakfast?"

"If you're good for the doctor, then we can get some breakfast."

"And if I'm bad?"

Richard was digging under the couch next to Till's legs for his shoes. He paused and sat up, then leaned in to Till's ear and growled, "Oh, you don't want to know what'll happen if you're bad."

Richard sat back and winked at him, then went back under the couch as Till made another appreciative noise.

"I wouldn't put your pretty ass in my face right now if I were you," Till warned light-heartedly, giving him a swat. Richard wiggled his backside enticingly, but dodged out of the way of Till's grabbing hand.

"I'm not into handicapped sex-scapades," Richard said, scooting back out from under the couch with his shoe held triumphantly. "Put on some clothes so we can go. If you need your hand reset or put it in a cast or something, we need to hurry up and get it done."

"Fine," Till sighed in resignation. He stood up, letting the blanket fall dramatically from around his hips. Richard's gaze immediately snapped up from where he had been tying his shoe and settled on Till's crotch. It was Till's turn to smirk as he walked past Richard's following eyes, his erection bobbing as he strolled off to his room.

An offended yell echoed from the hallway, "Fucking hell, Till! Put some goddamn pants on!" It seemed Schneider was awake now too.

Richard snickered and finished tying his shoes.

\---------

Hospitals made Richard extremely uncomfortable, particularly waiting rooms. 

Till was busy playing some repetitive little jumping game on his phone with his good hand. Richard had forgotten to charge his phone last night, and when he did remember, Till had been fast asleep on his chest; so now, he was stuck either watching Till play a mind-numbing game, or look around the waiting room and try not to think about which of those people had extremely communicable diseases.

He shuffled awkwardly in the chair as an old man coughed roughly nearby.

"Settle down, scholle," Till muttered, his brow furrowed in concentration at the game. "You can't catch "old" from someone."

Richard frowned, and then said quietly, "I'm fine. I just dont like sitting in the middle of a bunch of sick people, is all."

"I'm well aware." Till's eyes stayed fixed on his phone. "Being jumpy doesn't help anything."

"I'm not jumpy, I'm just--"

He flinched hard as Till's foot suddenly kicked him lightly on his shin.

"You're jumpy."

Richard crossed his arms with a huff, but didn't argue further. He looked at the clock on the wall, begging it to hurry up. 

They'd gotten in about an hour earlier when no one was in the waiting room. They'd been seen quickly and taken to a room for xrays. Once they were done, they'd been asked to sit in the waiting room for their results to be gone over by the doctor, as their patient's rooms were currently full. Richard had been tense ever since they sat down. The more people that filed in, the more fidgeting he did. 

After probably the hundredth time that he crossed and then uncrossed his legs, Till sighed loudly and exited his game.  
"Do we need to walk around?" he asked in a mildly exasperated tone.

Richard first felt indignant, but then nodded quickly as he noticed a courtyard just past the lobby. Walking was a good idea.

"Fine. I'll let them know where we are."

Richard hopped up and trotted briskly out to the patio, welcoming the fresh air. He noted the irony as he pulled out a cigarette, but he didn't care. It had been days since he last smoked, now that he thought about it. It was bizarre for him to have gone so long without a smoke. He briefly wondered why that was, but let the thought sink away as he took the first drag and released it with a relieved sigh. The smoke curled up through the air until it dissipated into the morning sunshine. 

"I almost thought you'd given up smoking entirely," Till quipped as he stepped outside to join Richard. 

Richard shrugged and said, "I guess I just haven't thought about it much. I think the last cigarette I had was at that woman's house, the one from the trivia contest at the bar."

"Ah," said Till, reaching his hand out for a cigarette.

"Nope," Richard said with a shake of his head. "Remember? The nurse said no smoking. Prevents bone healing."

Till narrowed his eyes at him. "And yet you can smoke right next to me? Doesn't sound fair."

Richard gave him the middle finger as he took another drag. "No one is forcing you to sit there and breathe in the smoke."

Faster than he could process, Till's arm whipped out and he snagged the cigarette from Richard's mouth and stomped it into the cobblestones.

Just as his mouth opened to yell at Till, he saw Till grab the box of cigarettes from the window sill behind him where he'd set them. 

"Hey! What the hell, Lindemann? Give them back."

Till shook his head and said, "If I can't smoke, neither can you."

"And just how exactly is that fair? I didn't smash my hand on the floor!"

"And I didn't fuck my bandmate anonymously, but here we are."

Richard's angry scowl turned hurt, and Till regretted the snap immediately. 

"I'm sorry; that was too harsh. It's just unfair for you to be able to smoke when I can't."

"Life isn't fair, Till," Richard spat, his earlier anger returning. "Give me the cigarettes. 

Till stubbornly shook his head again. "Unless you're willing to let me smoke too, you shouldn't get to either. We're in this equally."

Richard wanted to throw a fit, leap over and wrestle Till for the pack, regardless of the state of his hand. He'd only gotten just enough of a taste of his cigarette to remind him how badly he craved them, and it was driving him crazy. 

"Till, I need them. I can't quit cold turkey. You don't smoke nearly as much as I do, so you'll be fine."

"You've done fine for the past few days without them," Till countered.

Richard grumpily crossed his arms and said, "I've been very distracted these past few days, in case you missed it."

"And who says you can't be distracted again?"

"What, you plan on having panic attacks or breaking your hand every time I want to go smoke?"

"No, not quite."

Till glanced through the small window beside the solitary door to the courtyard, then grabbed Richard by the back hem of his pants and dragged him close with his good hand. He hauled him over to the corner of the courtyard, away from the windows and behind a tall shrubbery.

He turned Richard around away from him, put his forearm over Richard's mouth and shushed in his ear as he used his good hand to undo the man's jeans. Till hungrily kissed and nipped at the back of his neck as his hand shoved into Richard's pants to grab his dick. Richard made a stifled, high pitched noise as Till immediately went to work, stroking hard and fast at his rapidly hardening length. 

Richard's hips bucked into his grip as he squirmed around, his aroused moans closed off with Till's massive forearm pressed at his mouth. Till was more than pleased to see how fast Richard's arousal climbed. It was less than a minute before his thrusting hips stuttered. Till immediately let go, quickly turned Richard to face him and dropped to his knees. He shoved Richard into his throat just as he felt the man stiffen with a choked gasp. Till swallowed on him, welcoming the feel of Richard's hands tangled into his hair, fucking into his mouth as far as he could thrust while he came.

After a half dozen short pumps of his hips, Richard fell back down to earth, his pulse erratic and his mind a bit scrambled in an aroused haze. 

Till wiped his mouth and gave Richard's softening dick a parting lick, at which Richard snarled and smacked the side of Till's head, too over-sensitive for further touch.

"You're terrible," Richard said, a bit winded sounding. 

Till smirked, standing up and pocketing the cigarette pack.  
"It worked, didn't it?"

Richard had to give it to him: the craving wasn't there anymore. He was sure it would return soon, but for now, he felt sated. He buttoned his pants back, refusing to give Till anymore credit than a short nod. Till grinned in self-satisfaction.

The door to the courtyard opened suddenly, startling them both from behind the shrub. 

"Mister Lindemann?" a nurse called. They emerged from the corner, Richard sheepishly and Till very calmly. 

"Yes, that's me," Till acknowledged. 

"The doctor will see you now."


	13. Reset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair discovers that Till has managed to get an especially unique injury.

Richard was amazed at how childlike Till looked, sitting on the exam bed with his legs dangling off the end, his eyes slightly concerned as they waited for the doctor. 

"Apparently "ready to see you" doesn't mean what it used to," Richard offered. They'd been waiting at least twenty more minutes since the nurse ushered them into the room. 

Till shrugged, but Richard saw the stiffness in the movement. 

"It'll be fine, Liebes," Richard said with a pat on Till's knee. 

Till's eyebrow shot up at him. "Did you just call me "Liebes," Richard?"

Richard was about to defend the pet name when the door opened and an older looking doctor introduced himself. Till squinted at Richard, but then turned his attention to the doctor.

He set the xrays up on the light board for them to see, pointing out that Till had not one, but two fractures along his fingers, in what the doctor referred to as a "boxer's fracture."

"It's quite rare to see one like this," the doctor mused, pointing out spots on the xray. "The 4th and 5th metacarpal bones have fractures, but the 4th is a hairline stress fracture while the 5th is a compound fracture."

"What does that mean?" Richard asked, his concern audible in his voice. 

Till rolled his eyes. "Just let him speak, Richard."

"Most boxer's fractures are stress fractures needing nothing more than a splint for a few weeks and physical therapy. Whatever you hit was hard enough to not just crack the bone, but to displace one of them into a compound fracture. It's a very rare thing."

Tired of expressing concern while Till dismissed him, Richard became more interested in watching Till's subtle reactions to the news. He could see a tightness develop around Till's eyes, and he saw a nervous swallow when the doctor explained the need to set the compound fracture back properly: a "reduction," he'd called it. 

"Will I have to wear a cast, then?"

"Absolutely yes, for a bare minimum of 6 weeks, preferably 8."

Richard saw darkness clouding into Till's eyes at that. 

"We'll go with 6," Till said stiffly. Richard knew he wanted it off before the tour got well underway.

The doctor shrugged. He'd obviously dealt with men like Till in the past. "Have you ever broken these bones before?" he asked. 

Till shook his head and said, "Not that I recall. I used to fight, though. Occasional boxing."

"That would make sense then from what I see in the xray. You've developed a lot of scar tissue, which might make this break harder to heal. We'll see how the reduction and cast work out first, though, and go from there. I'll go get the aneasthetic and then we'll set the one finger back before casting."

"Don't bother with the aneasthetic," Till interjected as the doctor was about to leave. "I'll be fine."

The doctor chuckled. "Trust me boy; you're going to want it for this one."

"Nein," Till insisted. "Trust *me* for this one. I'll be fine."

He met the doctor's skeptical look with a hardened glare that made Richard uncomfortable. 

With a resigned sigh, the doctor shrugged. "You are free to decline it, of course, even against my recommendation."

He went over to the exam bed and Till held out his hand. The doctor poked a bit here and there, wiggled a finger, and then pressed lightly on one of the more misshapen spots on the finger. Till inhaled sharply, but didn't move. The doctor looked up at his taut face. 

"Are you sure you don't want--"

"I am *fine*," Till managed through gritted teeth. 

The doctor sighed again. "If you say so. This really is going to hurt."

"I know. Just go ahead."

The doctor nodded, then with a few deft movements, pulled, pushed, and squeezed the finger bones back into place.

Till's face went from hard, stony, and determined to an expression Richard had never seen before. His eyes rolled back and he gasped in several breaths with short spasms. His other arm flailed a bit, then grabbed the edge of the bed so tightly Richard thought he might break it. His face went a shocking shade of white that he found terrifying.

Richard stood up quickly, ready to help somehow if Till needed it. The doctor was frowning, and turned Till's hand over in his own to inspect it. 

"Well, it's technically set," he said, still examining it closely. "But the scar tissue seems to be pressing into the fracture slightly."

Till had managed to open his eyes again, and Richard saw small tear streaks at the corners of them. He was still very, very pale. 

"What does that mean for him?" Richard asked, knowing Till wasn't in a state to ask for himself. 

"Well, I'm not entirely sure. Possibly nothing, but it runs the risk of healing poorly or being painful well into the foreseeable future."

"What can be done?" Richard continued, moving to put a hand around Till's waist comfortingly. Till didn't react except to hang his head and attempt to breathe more than just ragged gasps. His hand still held the edge of the bed in a death grip.

The doctor shook his head. "Nothing, for now. We just have to wait and see how the casting does. After that, then we can discuss how it looks. Until then we have no way of knowing."

"Can you give him something for the pain?"

"Nein," Till whispered hoarsely, his head still hung low. "It's fine."

"Are you sure, boy? You don't need to prove yourself to anyone by sitting around in needless pain." 

Till shook his head ever so slightly to indicate he didn't want anything. 

"All right. Well, I'll get the casting equipment then." 

Richard released Till, making sure he wouldn't slump off the side of the exam bed, then walked with the doctor to the door. 

"Thank you, doctor," he said quietly. "I'm sorry he's a bit difficult."

"Not at all. I've seen his type before." 

Richard felt a card subtly pressed into his palm. 

"Just remember to call if you need anything," the doctor said, giving Richard a knowing look. 

Richard nodded slowly. "We will. Thank you."

The doctor nodded once more, then left to get the casting equipment.

Richard stuffed the card in his pocket and went back to Till's side. 

"Are you ok, Till?" He rubbed his partner's back comfortingly. 

Till bobbed his head a tiny bit. 

"Are you sure?"

Another small nod. 

"You were good for the doctor. Do you want some priority 3 breakfast once you've got your cast on?"

The tiniest of smiles flitted across Till's mouth and he nodded once more.

"Good."


	14. Priority Three Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both men in their own ways come to terms with each other's varying needs for attention.

Till looked positively miserable trying to eat breakfast with his off hand, his other trapped in a white cast that reached midway up his forearm. Bits of boiled eggs kept slipping off his fork before reaching his mouth, never mind being able to spread marmalade over his bread. Richard knew better than to offer to help, so he tried his very best to pretend everything was just fine, and attempted to ignore the stares of random people nearby in the breakfast cafe.

With a clang, Till showed he'd finally had enough by tossing his fork down onto the table. He leaned his face down and leveled his mouth with his plate, about to simply slide the food off the plate into his mouth.

"*Till!*" Richard hissed, startling him. Till froze, mouth open next to his plate. 

"Abso-fucking-lutely not!" Richard whispered through gritted teeth. Though quiet, his tone was deadly serious. "Use your goddamn silverware like a human being or so help me, you're hitchhiking home where I'll have Flake change the fucking locks before you get back."

Till was shocked at Richard's sudden anger. He sat up, and realized the surrounding tables were all staring at them. They turned back to their own food when they saw he had noticed them. 

Till looked back at Richard and nearly laughed at how red he was. He did feel badly, though. He'd clearly embarrassed him. 

"Sorry, scholle, I--"

"Just eat your fucking food," Richard muttered, a hand up next to his face, attempting to hide himself in shame. 

Till chuckled, though he still felt a bit bad after seeing Richard's powerful embarrassment.  
"All right, all right. I'm sure I'll get used to it."

Richard shoved a mouthful of egg into his mouth angrily. "You'd better."

It was fascinating to Till how much other people's opinions mattered to Richard. Till could rake food directly from his plate into his mouth with a full cafe staring at him and it wouldn't bother him in the slightest. Richard got self-conscious if he felt his pants were slightly too faded. Till just couldn't understand the man's mindset. 

Though Till often felt shy onstage, choosing not to acknowledge audiences more often than not, he didn't care what people thought of him. His shyness came more from a desire to be elsewhere. If he were able to do the exact same shows in front of no one, he'd be equally as happy. It didn't matter much to him

Richard, however, absolutely thrived on the fame and desire of fans, and really everyone he came into contact with. He came alive with the cheers of crowds, screams of desperate women and yells from jealous men. Instead of relief after shows like what Till felt, Richard got depressed. Till couldn't count the number of times he'd passed Richard in the after parties, sulking with a drink until he was approached by a pretty girl he'd take to bed. He was always approached, Till mused. He was an attractive man, to be sure.

"Till?"

"Hmm?"

"You're staring at me. Are you really that frustrated with the silverware?"  
Richard's tone had calmed and his face was a bit less red. 

"No, I was just distracted thinking of how attractive you are."

"Flattery won't let you be allowed to eat like a pig."

"I was being serious."

"I was too."

Their waitress came over to the table with coffee. Richard noticed how Till perked up a bit, his eyes trained on the pretty woman. 

"Thank you so much," Till purred, a suave smile on his face. "Could I perhaps bother you for one more thing?"

"Of course!" the woman replied, smiling sweetly.

It suddenly hit Richard what was happening, and his stomach clenched. 

"Would it be ever so forward of me to ask you to sign my cast? It's terribly plain and empty. I just got it this morning, and I'm a bit downhearted about it."

"Aww, of course I'll sign it! You poor thing, here--" she grabbed a marker from her pocket and began writing, casting little glances up at Till's face as she did so. Till had a simperingly sweet smile at her, and Richard could have sworn he saw him wink. 

"There you go," she said as she finished. "It was an honor to be the first to sign your cast, and I hope you feel better soon!" 

This time Richard definitely saw Till wink as she left. The waitress giggled on the way back to the kitchen.

Till admired the scrawling on his cast, noting the little heart she left next to not only her name, but her phone number, while Richard felt seething jealously bubbling up.

He pushed back from the table.  
"I'm going to the bathroom," he said distastefully. 

Till looked up, hearing the change in Richard's voice and he frowned. "You all right, Rich?"

Richard waved him off as he walked to the bathroom. Till shrugged a bit, too hungry to follow the pouting man.

Richard sighed loudly once inside the bathroom, rubbing his face. He wasn't ignorant; he knew this was going to happen sooner or later. Till especially just didn't seem to be wired for monogamy. But it still stung to see that point played out in front of him. Communicating this jealousy was going to be very important for their relationship to continue, Richard knew. Lack of it was what sent them spiraling the first time they tried to be with one another.

On the other hand, he didn't think it appropriate to ask Till to stop. While he didn't feel the need to flirt or pursue other relationships right now, he didn't know for sure if that would change in the future. They would be touring in the next few months, and Richard already knew he'd have more than his fair share of opportunities to enjoy the company of women along the way. 

Richard was torn between natural jealousy and a desire to let Till be himself. 

He washed his hands, though he hadn't actually even used the toilet. He just felt the need to try to wash away *something,* since he couldn't seem to wash off the jealousy. Richard sighed once more before drying his hands and walking back to the table. 

As he sat down, he saw Till had shoved the handle of the fork down the front of his cast and was using it somewhat normally to spear his bits of egg and meat. Till grinned at him, his mouth now full and his face showing he was very pleased with himself.

Richard smiled softly. How could he harbor negative feelings against someone like Till? When given proper correction from a friend, 9 times out of ten he would attempt to comply, albeit in rather creative ways. 

It struck Richard that Till would likely do the same if he brought up his jealousy. Till wasn't an unreasonable monster. Quite the opposite, in fact. He truly did try to make certain people happy. While he generally couldn't give two shits for most people, Till would do just about anything for his friends and family, though he did love to play the soulless ass most of the time. 

"Till," Richard began, scratching his head a bit as he tried to figure out how to word his concerns. 

"Mm?" He didn't look up from his plate and continued to happily stab at his food.

"Well, I think we need to have a discussion."

"I'm not going to fuck her," Till said with a mouthful of boiled egg.

Richard closed his eyes and rubbed his brow. Of course Till picked up on his jealousy. He wasn't exactly the most emotionally subtle man, he acknowledged.

"I just like the attention, Rich. I'm not young anymore. I don't know how long I'll be able to still get that attention, especially when we retire from the spotlight. I don't need popularity, but I do enjoy the attention that comes along with it. It's just nice to be assured once in awhile that I'm not only desirable because of what band I'm part of."

Richard nodded slowly. That made perfect sense to him, and was indeed in line with Till's personality.  
"So you're not even going to call her, after the pretty way she wrote her number on your cast?"

Till stuffed the last bit of meat into his mouth before answering around it, "I was actually planning on drawing dicks all over the cast."

Richard snorted, nearly spilling his coffee as he laughed.  
"Why didn't I guess that?" he said sarcastically.

Till shrugged. "You certainly should have known."

"All right Picasso, let's get back home and tell Flake what the doctor said. He's going to want to know everything."

Richard got up, and saw Till wince strongly as he pulled the fork out of his cast.

"Does it hurt?" Richard asked.

"Hardly at all," Till said with a reassuring smile, but one that Richard could see was forced.

Richard frowned and stuck his hand in his pocket as they walked out to the car. He fingered the business card the doctor gave him with his phone number. He truly hoped Till was being sincere, or he'd be forced help Till out of his seemingly self-imposed masochism. He knew Till needed pain, but there was a limit to it, and Richard would much rather be the one to give him the pain safely and lovingly, rather than let him suffer from self-inflicted injuries. 

"Look, Rich," Till said happily as they got into the car, "I can draw all over this, over her name and number like this, and then sell it on the Doktor Dick site as artwork!"

Richard shook his head good naturedly. Till was an immature man-child, sometimes. But he was Richard's immature man-child, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll go ahead and admit I have no idea what time period or era this is supposed to be. I'm not as familiar with their timelines as I should be, so while some things are canonically correct with the dates, others most likely will not be (for example, I have no idea when Till started his Doktor Dick side project).
> 
> I'll do my best to keep it coherent, though, and try not to make things conflict time-wise as well as I can.
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with this!


	15. Break the Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider has an unexpected reaction to Till's injury, while Richard reminds Till of a bad habit of his.

Flake had been less than pleased at the news of Till's injury, having expected it to be much less dramatic of a break. Schneider, Oli and Paul had been present for that conversation as well, as they were all home trying to pack for their impending move. 

"How the hell did you manage that?" Paul had asked incredulously, inspecting the xray that Till was able to bring home. He held it up to the light coming through the window and marveled at the cracked finger bones.

"I punched the floor," Till said dismissively, very busy doodling phalluses across his cast.

Paul shook his head, but didn't lecture. He knew it would be pointless, and it wasn't his business anyhow. Oli was of the same mind and kept his mouth shut as well. 

Schneider, for whatever reason, had a very consternated look about him, and decided it very much *was* his business.

"Till, that's an incredibly bad break that you don't get from randomly hitting the floor for no reason. What actually happened?"

Richard and Flake both shot Schneider looks that very clearly said, "leave it alone," but Schneider ignored them and focused his attention on Till. 

Till's drawing slowed a bit, and Richard saw his jaw clench slightly. Richard felt the need to intervene before Schneider's questioning triggered Till.

"He was drunk, standing on the bed and hit the floor as he fell off," Richard lied, and was very impressed at himself with how smoothly he did so. 

Schneider scowled and turned to Richard. "Did you fall off the bed and hit your eye, too?"

Now it was Richard's turn to clench his jaw. Before he could respond, Till spoke up in an icy voice, "He did, actually. What of it?"

Richard became immediately uncomfortable as the two glared at one another in a silent challenge, sizing each other up like two wolves about to attack each other.

Schneider looked about to say something, but Paul slapped his legs first and stood up to clear the tension in the air.  
"Well, we're all just glad you're going to be okay, Till. Please let us know if there's anything we can do for you. Come on, Schneider. Let's take a walk."

Schneider yanked his arm out of Paul's grasp, his glare never leaving Till's face.  
"No, I think I'll stay right here."

Paul tried again as Oli stood up and silently moved over to where Schneider sat. He stood both protectively and defensively, ready to either hold back or protect Schneider, whatever the man decided to do.

Schneider again snatched his arm back, this time looking up angrily at Paul. 

Flake spoke up then, "It's obvious this is something private and personal. Till, I think you should go finish packing now, and Schneider, I think the walk is a good idea." 

Flake looked pointedly at Paul and Oli who stood on either side of Schneider. 

Schneider's eyes narrowed, but he knew he was currently outnumbered, regardless of whatever his issues were.

"Fine." He stood up and walked to the door, but not before shooting a very hateful look back, aimed specifically at Till. 

Till's face stayed cool and impassive, but Richard saw his grip tighten on the marker he'd been drawing with. They heard the door slam.

"I'm sorry, Till," Paul apologized as he left the room, rapidly pulling on his coat and boots. "He's been in the worst mood today; I don't know what's wrong with him."

"He needs to learn to keep his shit mood to himself, then," Till responded flatly. 

Paul gave another apologetic look to them, then hurried out the door to follow Schneider. Oli patted Till's shoulder, then went after the other two.

Richard released a breath as the door closed again, much more quietly this time.

"Fucking prick," Till muttered as he went back to his drawing. 

Flake rubbed his eyes behind his glasses and made an exasperated noise. "I would love to have one single day that's free of drama and angst. Just one."

Richard rubbed Till's leg. "You didn't have to lie to him for me," he said.

"Neither did you, but you did. I simply returned the favor. It's not his business anyhow."

"Maybe he's just worried about the tour," Richard offered, though he didn't really believe it himself. 

"Maybe he's just being a fucking prick."

"Enough, Till," Flake said loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I was serious about going and packing. Our lease got moved up and we have to be out in two days."

Till huffed, irked that he had to leave his dick drawings unfinished. "Whatever."

"You need to not take his bait either," Flake said pointedly. "I don't care how uncomfortable painkillers make you feel."

Richard's brow furrowed. "He's not--"

"You're right, Flake," Till interrupted. "I'll keep out of it. Come on, Rich. Help me pack up the room and I'll help with yours tomorrow."

Till grabbed his arm, a bit too tightly, Richard thought, but he would go along anyway. Till interrupted him on purpose, so he obeyed the unspoken command to be quiet.

"All right. Flake, let us know if you want help with the kitchen, ja?"

Flake gave him a thumbs up, but Richard took note of a strong concern in Flake's face.

Till closed his door and locked the door behind them, but then simply went to the bed and continued drawing across his cast. 

"What was that?" Richard demanded, sitting next to him on the bed. 

"Schneider likes to provoke and was being a dick,," he said in an uninterested voice. 

"No, with Flake. Why do you not want pain medicine?"

Till said nothing, busy drawing a very detailed vein across one of the larger penises on his cast. 

"Look, I understand you need pain, but you know I'm here to help with that. All you have to do is ask me."

"It's not about that," Till muttered, his face inches from his cast as he threw all of his attention into the drawings. 

"Till, come on. At least hold a focused conversation with me about it. If it's something I can help with--"

"It isn't. Don't worry."

Richard threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Oh, good then! That perfectly satisfied my questioning, Till, thank you. I'll be sure to always assume you're fine without questioning it again. I'll never worry again."

Till closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to finish his cast today, he sensed, not with Richard getting so dramatic.

He capped the marker and tossed it away from the bed with a flourish, watching as it clattered across the floor. 

"All right, then," he said, indulging Richard's questions, "what exactly do you want to know?"

Though Till's tone was condescending in response to his sarcasm, Richard was still thankful Till gave him his full attention. "Why will you not take pain medicine?"

Till grunted, then said hesitantly, "I'm not completely opposed to it, I just don't need it. Flake thinks otherwise, and I prefer him to not be up my ass about it. You know he would be."

Richard had to admit that was probably true.  
"But why insist you're fine when you're clearly in pain? Do you feel like you need more than what I could give?"

Till said gently, "It really doesn't have to do with that, and I promise the pain isn't as bad as you think. I just dislike medicine and drugs in general. After seeing what you went through," Richard winced a bit at the memory of his brief heroin stint, "I just choose not to even dabble in it."

"You've done cocaine fairly recently, and still regularly drink, though," Richard pointed out.

Till shrugged. "Those don't affect me the same way. Alcohol gives me freedom, the blow gives me energy, and even still I rarely use to excess."

Again, Richard had to admit that was true. Something still bothered him about Till's explanation, but he just couldn't pinpoint why. 

Till leaned forward and kissed him gently. "I appreciate your worry, Rich. I really do. But I'm fine; trust me."

With a heavy sigh, Richard looked up at him and nodded. The nagging thought was still there, however, and he was sure Till was picking up on his unease. 

Sure enough, Till leaned over and pressed his body to Richard's, kissing him deeply while his good hand roamed up under Richard's t-shirt. 

Though he felt his body respond immediately, he pushed the other man back.  
"Wait, Till." 

Till's brow furrowed. "Do you not want sex?"

"I, well, yes I do, but--"

"So what's the problem?" He leaned in to straddle Richard back against the bed, kissing along his neck.

"Till, stop it," Richard insisted, though admittedly with some reluctance.

Till sat back, looking confused.  
"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is you always want to fuck me whenever I try to talk to you about anything problematic."

Till raised an eyebrow. "That's probably because it's hard for problems to stick around when you're either fucking or getting fucked, Richard."

Richard felt exasperated at the man's bull-headedness.  
"Yes, but that's part of the problem, too. Things don't just go away because you ignore them and have sex instead. I'm not a blow up doll for you to use whenever you feel uncomfortable, Till."

At that, Richard saw immense hurt in Till's eyes, and he regretted his choice of words.

"No, look, I didn't mean that so harshly. I know you don't treat me like that. It's just that it seems like I'm acting as a distraction for you. Remember what you told me Flake said?"

Till sighed with a nod, looking as though he'd been chastised and was upset about it.

"You're doing it without really thinking. It's become a reflex for you, I think." 

Richard reached over and pushed hair out of Till's eyes and tucked it behind his ear. 

"I love you. I want you to meet issues head-on, not step aside and ignore them until they blow up in your face."

A glint in Till's eye made Richard groan in irritation. "I swear to god, if you make a sex joke about blowing up in your face, I'll kick your broken hand."

Till smiled, but quickly became serious again.  
"I understand what you're saying, Rich, and I know you're right. I just like sex. It makes me feel good, especially if I'm feeling bad to begin with."

Richard kissed the end of his nose, making Till scrunch his face at the sickly sweet gesture. "I know. There's a time and place for comfort sex. We just need to break your habit of using it at the wrong times and places." 

"Is now a wrong time or place?" Till teased.

"It's literally the perfect and most immediate example of what I was talking about. So, yes. But I would love to kiss you before we pack."

Till rolled his eyes, but smiled as he leaned in to press his lips to Richard's.  
"Fair."


	16. Yet Another Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider is bothered, but Oli and Paul try to calm him down.

Schneider stamped down the sidewalk with his hands jammed in his pockets angrily. He heard the door of their flat closing again behind him but he didn't slow his walk. 

He was fuming. Why everyone else was allowing the shit between Richard and Till to continue without so much as a single questioning of it was insanity, in his mind.

At best, it would only be a matter of time before the two hit a bump in the relationship and it would cause severe tension between them and really, everyone in the band. The tour would suffer, their music would suffer, and they would suffer. And that was a best case scenario. 

A worst case involved the band imploding, destroying itself from the inside out because of the fallout from those two fucking up. 

What made Schneider even more angry was the blatant physical side of things. Richard had a black eye for god's sake, but everyone was looking the other way for some reason. Till had literally broken his hand punching something, and it was all Schneider could do to hope it hadn't been Richard's body on the receiving end of it. He found himself yet again stuck regretting his decisions to help the two. 

He heard Paul jogging up behind him but he didn't deign to look over.

"Doom, come on," he heard him plead. "They're both okay; they just have stuff to work through."

"By beating the shit out of each other?" Schneider bit back.

"I really don't think they--"

"Well I do. I've seen Till spitting angry, I've seen him out of his mind high, I've seen him drunk beyond help. He has zero self-control, and what's more, he didn't have the added stress of a boyfriend, much less one in the same band as him."

Schneider shook his head in disbelief. "How am I the only one that sees this for what it really is-- a bad fucking idea?"

Oli was beside him suddenly. Schneider hated how quietly he could move despite his notable height. 

"I don't think it's a good idea either," he offered. "But it's also not our business."

"But it *is* our business," Schneider insisted, pulling his hands from his pockets and poking a finger into his palm for emphasis. "Our livelihood is our music, and if this turns sour like I know it absolutely will, we run the risk of losing it all."

"I think you're being a bit dramatic," Paul said from the other side of him. 

"No, I'm being the correct amount of concerned about this. They're over there injuring each other and everyone is just turning a blind eye to it. What, are we just supposed to "let boys be boys," until they end up killing each other?"

Paul looked uncomfortable, but spoke anyway, "Richard texted me a little about what was going on. Not too much detail because it apparently is a pretty personal thing, but they're not getting hurt from arguments or disagreements."

"So, what, rough sex? Even that's dangerous if it's ending up with broken bones, Paul. How am I the only one that sees that?"

"You're not," Oli repeated, his voice strong but quiet. "I don't like it either, but until it gets to a point where we definitely know it's affecting the band, it isn't our business. Getting in the middle of it just ends up making things worse."

"So your plan," Schneider said, turning to Oli, "is to wait until they fuck up the band, then decide it's time to intervene. When will that be? When they kill each other? When one leaves the band because he can't stand the other one anymore?"

Oli shook his head. "This isn't as precarious as you think it is."

"Really? Oh, good. For a second there I thought broken bones seemed like a really big problem. I'm glad I'm mistaken. Thanks, I feel immensely better now. I'll make sure to remind myself that I'm just delusional about it all, even though this is the *exact* same thing that went on the first time they tried being together."

Schneider scowled after finishing his sarcastic monologue and continued stomping down the walkway. Paul gave Oli a tired look, then both continued on after their angry bandmate. Paul paused for a second to check his buzzing phone.

"Doom, look," Oli said after catching up to him again. "They're not children. They were really young when they first tried whatever it is that they tried. They're grown men now, and even if something did sour between them, you've seen in the past that they can still work and function together regardless. That shouldn't be too much of a worry."

"And as far as the harming one another goes," Paul spoke up, "Flake just sent me a very detailed text he wants you to read. He said he saw your phone on the coffee table, so he sent it to me."

Schneider sighed, but reached his hand out begrudgingly for the phone. He paused his walk to read it.

The text read: 

"Believe it or not, I really do appreciate how concerned you are for them, which is why I think you deserve some insight. Till broke his hand during a panic attack, not from punching anyone. He just beat his hand on the floor like he used to do back when he did coke. Richard's black eye came from roughhousing when they were both incredibly drunk. You might not think so, but I'm every bit as worried for how this turns out as you are, maybe more so. I also know why you're especially concerned for Richard, and I'm sorry about that as well. I just ask that you try to keep the peace, and if it seems like something serious is about to happen, don't doubt that I'll be right there to back you up."

Schneider blinked. He knew Flake was telling the truth, as Flake had no reason to lie. He grimaced as he re-read the text.

"Does that help at all?" Paul asked hesitantly, holding his hand out for his phone.

Schneider hung his head and sighed, giving the phone back. "I guess so. I still don't like it, but at least Flake isn't just covering their shit up for them."

"Flake doesn't cover anything for anyone," Oli noted.

Paul snorted and Schneider smiled halfheartedly.

"What did Flake mean about you being especially concerned for Richard?" Paul asked as they continued their walk around the block. 

Schneider swallowed, then said, "Oh, he just means because I was the one who tried to get them together in the first place. I guess he thinks I feel guilty or something, I don't know. Hey, do you guys want some coffee?"

Oli pursed his lips slightly at Schneider's abrupt topic change but said nothing. 

Paul seemed rather oblivious, chiming in that he would love some coffee. Schneider smiled, which to Oli seemed like a relieved smile. 

"Great, let's go down to that cafe on the corner, then we can go back and pack. I think I can probably finish my room today, or at least my half. Flake's side is pretty tidy so it won't take him long at all, either."

Schneider continued to ramble on about packing and moving, while Oli gently tugged Paul's sleeve. Paul looked over, and Oli furrowed his brow slightly. Paul took the silent cue and nodded slowly. 

Something was up with Schneider.


	17. Packing it in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone comes back around, and the group goes out for a celebratory dinner together.

A knock on Till's bedroom door had both he and Richard look up from where they were finishing packing. They'd made good progress in the past few hours, getting all but a few of Till's pants (ones that Richard deemed unacceptably ripped) folded and packed into some travel trunks. 

Till opened the door, setting his jaw tightly as he saw Schneider on the other side. 

"Ja?"

"I just wanted to say sorry, to you both--" he leaned to see past Till's shoulder and gave Richard an apologetic look. "It isn't my business, and I owe you two the benefit of the doubt. I just don't want to see either of you hurt."

Till's face softened. He could see Schneider was legitimately sorry for his outburst. "Thank you, Doom. I promise everything is all right."

"Do you need help packing?"

"Nee, I think we've got it. Thanks."

"All right," he said, then looked down again where Richard sat folding pants on the floor. Richard smiled up at him and gave him a little thumbs up. Schneider nodded to him, then turned and went to his room.

"I feel a bit bad for him," Richard said, setting aside the last of the ripped pants. "From his view, it must have looked pretty bad."

"I suppose," Till said flippantly. "Still isn't his business. I'm glad he came around, though."

Back in the kitchen, Flake was busy packing up his various cutlery and cooking tools. Paul walked in, less than his cheerful self.

"Flake," he began, "what did you mean when you texted you knew why Doom was especially concerned for Richard?"

Flake looked up. He should have expected Paul to question the text. If something bothered him, Paul wasn't one to beat around the bush. Flake liked that quality about him, but it made situations that needed to stay private a bit more difficult.

"It's not my place to say," he said plainly. "You would have to ask him."

"I already did."

"And?"

"He said you thought he felt guilty for getting them together."

Flake shrugged. "So, that sounds like his answer, then."

Paul crossed his arms. "Do I need to be concerned, Flake?"

Flake halted his packing and turned to Paul, pushing his slipping glasses back up his nose.   
"No. Schneider is just confused right now, but it's nothing that wont settle itself."

"That's very cryptic." 

"That's because everyone in this house has a problem with speaking their mind and being an adult," Flake complained. "If everyone simply said what they meant, like I do and like you mostly do, things would be so much simpler and far less dramatic."

Paul sat down on a kitchen stool and sighed. "Do you think this is a good idea, Flake? Schneider had some legitimate concerns, even if he did overreact. I don't know if we can all bounce back a 2nd time if this goes wrong."

Flake joined him at the kitchen counter on another stool.   
"I don't think we have a say in it anymore, even if it were a bad idea. They're very close now. I can't see them ending whatever relationship they have just because we worry or are slightly uncomfortable with it. I think they'll be all right, so long as they keep communicating and nothing major comes up. Right now is really the ideal time for them to start something like this anyway. We aren't touring yet, we've essentially finished pre-production for the album, and everything is generally quiet. If it's going to turn out well, this is their best chance at it."

Paul fiddled with his sleeve, and said quietly, "I do miss spending time with Rich."

Flake smiled and patted Paul's back. "That's something you definitely don't need to worry about. They're in the honeymoon phase right now, but they'll soon get sick of being together constantly. Richard especially-- Till is a nightmare to spend too much time with. I would know."

Paul laughed and smiled back at Flake. "Very fair point. Have we got our plane tickets yet? When do we leave for next year's festival rehearsals?"

"Not yet. They're dragging their feet on it. Always seems to happen when we've finished pre-production."

Oli walked into the kitchen, peering in the now-empty cupboards.  
"Do we not have any bowls out still?"

"They're all packed, sorry," Flake said. "I was going to have us all go to dinner tonight to celebrate the move."

"Okay." Oli seemed sad, and Paul knew he'd been hoping for some cereal. The man was a bottomless pit when it came to food. 

"Cheer up, Oli," Paul said. "In a day, we'll be out of here and traveling again. You love traveling."

Oli nodded. "I also love cereal," he lamented. 

Till and Richard entered the living room, each carrying a large luggage trunk and dropped them off before walking into the kitchen. 

"My room's packed," Till announced. "Except for Oli's stuff, of course. 

"Not that he has much anyway," Richard added. 

"I keep a lot with my girlfriend," Oli said.

Everyone paused and looked at him. Oli almost never spoke about his personal life, much less whether he were seeing someone or not. 

Paul was the first to break the suprised silence. "Congratulations!" He clapped Oli on the back, who blushed a bit. "That's fantastic. May I ask how long?"

Oli ducked his head, but replied in a quieter voice, "About 4 months now."

Everyone was suprised again, but only for a moment. It was very Oli-like to have kept it private for so long. 

Paul patted his shoulder again, grinning. "I'm sure she's wonderful. Make sure to let us know at some point if you get married."

They all chuckled at that, and Schneider stepped into the kitchen, reaching for the cabinets.

"There's no bowls," Oli offered helpfully. 

Schneider sighed and closed the cupboard door. "I wanted some cereal."

Flake threw his hands up in irritation.   
"Do we need to make it an early dinner, as everyone seems to be hungry already?"

Everyone nodded eagerly as Flake rolled his eyes.  
"Fine. Everyone go clean up and we'll go out to eat."

Paul cheered and the others all smiled eagerly. It had been a good while since they'd all gone out for a meal, the last time having been right before the mess between Till and Richard started. They needed a good night out together, free of tension or strain.

\---------------

An hour and a half later found them all sitting and chatting pleasantly at a Mediterranean restaurant. Till and Richard sat next to one another, across from Paul and Schneider, with Oli and Flake occupying both ends of the table. 

They ate and drank happily, their worries forgotten for the time being amidst the delicious food and good company. 

Till had once again chosen to use his dominant hand to eat, stuffing the fork down the front of his cast as he did at the breakfast cafe. Paul in particular found his ingenuity hilarious, and cackled every time he watched Till spear and maneuver his food with the improvised fork-holster. Even Schneider had seemed to cheer up, the wine they shared putting color into his cheeks and giggles into his conversations. 

They all ate and chatted pleasantly for well on two hours before Schneider and Richard started downing the wine a bit too eagerly. Till took note and cut Richard off, gently taking away the wine glass and kissing him to persuade him to stop drinking. Richard, though quite tipsy, obliged and switched to drinking water on Till's recommendation. 

Schneider, on the other hand, had no one telling him to slow down, and he ended up ordering another bottle as the rest of the table was busy discussing the finer points of proper falafel consumption. 

After downing nearly the entirety of the new bottle, Schneider loudly announced he needed to use the restroom, and then staggered away from the table to the bathroom. Everyone suddenly became aware of much he'd drank without their noticing.

"Could someone make sure he doesn't fall in?" Flake asked with a sigh, irritated that he'd not been paying close enough attention to his band mate's alcohol consumption. 

Richard stood up. "I have to go anyhow; I'll check on him."

Till nodded at him as he left the table. Though Richard was a bit tipsy, he was still fully in control of his faculties, so Till wasn't concerned in the slightest.

Richard found Schneider washing his hands as he entered the bathroom, wobbling a bit as he lathered soap across them. 

"You good?" Richard asked, heading to the urinals.

"Mmm," Schneider made an affirmative noise as Richard relieved himself. 

"You gotta slow down a bit," Richard said as he finished up. "Maybe switch to water or something for awhile if we stay out." 

Richard zipped his pants back up and turned around, startled to see Schneider directly in front of him. His eyes had a darkness in them, despite being a very pale blue color.

"You sure you're okay?" Richard asked, backing up a bit.

Schneider staggered forward even closer, backing Richard against the wall next to the urinal. 

"Doom, what's wrong?" Richard became concerned as his friend didn't answer, instead putting a hand on the wall next to Richard's head to steady himself.

"Nothing," he slurred, swaying slightly despite his hand holding against the wall. 

"Are.. are you sure?" Richard swallowed uncomfortably. He'd never seen his friend act like this before and it unnerved him.

"Yeah." 

Richard could smell the alcohol on his breath, and couldn't figure out what to do. Shoving him out of the way might result in Schneider falling over, his drunk equilibrium easily upset.

Before he could decide on a course of action, Schneider leaned in with an uncoordinated jerk of his torso, kissing Richard firmly on the mouth. Richard flinched at the contact, shocked at his friend's sudden action. 

He wanted to move away, push Schneider aside, yell at him and storm back to the table, but something internally held him there. Though he didn't necessarily return the kiss, he didn't move or resist Schneider either. He felt his traitorous body respond positively to the kiss, sloppy and drunk though it was, and he felt instant shame wash over him. Schneider kissed more deeply, and Richard was stunned at how soft and gentle he felt, despite his drunkenness. 

Schneider finally pulled back, breathing heavily, his brow furrowed. Richard couldn't speak, couldn't think of anything to say in response. What could he say to that?

He couldn't think of a response before Schneider broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Richard."

The drummer's expression stayed tight, his mouth pursed almost into a frown. He stepped back with a stagger, giving Richard room to move again. Richard didn't, though, still a bit stunned at what had happened. 

Schneider finally tore his intense gaze away from Richard and stumbled out of the bathroom, stopping on his way out to look over once more, a pleading, almost pained look on his face.   
"Please don't tell Till." 

With that, he left.

Richard was now alone, his heart hammering in his chest and his hands trembling. He put his shaking hands on his head. 

What the fuck had he just done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in another chapter, I'm going to be playing fast and loose with the time period. As I see it, this takes place around late 2015, but unlike the regular timeline, Till is about to get his blonde hair, and Schneider still has his medium-length curls. They've finished pre-production for an album and will be going on their festival tour in early 2016ish (maybe xD). 
> 
> I hope that helps a little bit!


	18. An Unexpected Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Schneider have a collision, and Richard is forced yet again to have a serious talk with Till.

Richard was quiet. He was quiet as he sat back down at the table, and he remained quiet as they all finished up dinner.

Till had asked if he were all right, hugging him on the side and pressing a kiss to his temple. Richard said his stomach hurt, not at all a lie as his gut was clenched up in painful knots. Till had said something about giving his stomach a break from alcohol and Richard simply nodded, agreeing with whatever he said.

Schneider, on the other hand, looked perfectly fine. He laughed and joked with everyone at the table, continuing his good mood on the ride back to their flat. He'd caught Richard's eye a few times, giving him a look that made Richard's stomach clench even more tightly, and he was terrified that it wasn't a bad feeling.

Oli had gone to his girlfriend's for the night, promising to be back and have his room packed in the morning, while the rest of them had squeezed in Paul's car. Flake, Till and Richard took up the backseat as Paul drove with Schneider sitting shotgun.

To distract himself--possibly to even prove something to himself-- he'd grabbed Till and kissed him hard. Everyone had laughed and cheered, confusingly, even Schneider. Regardless, it had made Richard feel slightly better, especially when Till had slid his hand into Richard's crotch and squeezed playfully. 

Richard smiled, feeling comforted. It had obviously been nothing more than a drunken mistake, and one Schneider had immediately regretted, it seemed. He had clearly moved on, so Richard decided he should as well. He also decided against informing Till. Nothing about telling him what happened sounded like a good idea.

Plus, he really, really hated thinking that he might have actually enjoyed it. Schneider was so soft, much moreso than Till; his lips thinner and his kiss gentler, even though he'd been a bit forceful due to the alcohol. His eyes were incredibly bright, a pale blue that looked like they were seeing through him.

Richard suddenly realized how awful it was to be dwelling on that, and was horrified to realize that he'd been getting turned on from his thoughts. Luckily, Till was still pawing at his pants, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least no one could tell what had given him his current hard-on, and that eased his shame slightly. He nuzzled into Till's neck, earning him a happy rumble from the man and teasing groans from the rest of the car. They'd apparently grown tired of the two's public affection.

Except for Schneider. Richard saw him out of the corner of his eye once again, and instead of showing exaggerated disgust like the rest, his eyes were focused on Richard, staring intensely from the front of the car. Richard's breath caught as Till kissed behind his ear and teased his fingers along the inside hem of his pants. He found he couldn't look away from Schneider's gaze, even as Till pushed his hand further into his pants. Richard's back arched, and he watched as Schneider followed Till's movements hungrily. 

It didn't feel right, but at the same time, a part of Richard felt wildly alive at the attention, however wrong it still seemed. He gasped as Till gripped his dick, and saw as Schneider stiffened as well, his eyes burning at the sight of Till stroking Richard. 

Richard suddenly realized if Till kept up his movements, and if Schneider kept looking at him like that, he'd cum right there in his pants. He hurriedly pushed Till aside and told him to stop, his breath ragged and his pulse pounding in his ears. Till chuckled, realizing how close he was and felt proud of himself. He whispered in Richard's ear what he was going to do to him once they got home. Richard nodded, but his eyes were still locked with Schneider's.

As soon as they parked, Richard was pulling Till into the house, his hurry a combination of physical desire and an overwhelming need to escape Schneider's smouldering looks. 

Till was more than happy to oblige Richard's hurry, jogging up the steps and through his bedroom door. Schneider, still quite drunk and being helped out of the car by Flake, was left behind with only a final parting look at Richard.

Richard slammed the door closed behind him and grabbed at Till desperately pulling him close and whimpering. 

"You're so fucking eager, Rich," Till said approvingly, his voice low and clouded with his own lust. 

"I need you to fuck me," Richard said as he tore off his clothes. 

Till groaned in pleasure at Richard's demand and started stripping his own clothes hurriedly. 

"Come on, fuck me," Richard said, pushing into Till and nearly knocking him over in his haste.

Till's brow began to furrow and he backed up a bit from Richard's advances.  
"Easy, Rich," he soothed. "We've got all the time in the world, just relax."

"I don't want to relax," Richard insisted. "I want you to fuck me." He pressed his body up agaisnt Till heavily, reaching up to kiss him hard. Till pulled back from the kiss.

"Richard, slow down," he said, his voice becoming more stern. "You're acting very strange."

"No I'm not," Richard countered, much more quickly and guiltily than he meant to. 

At that, Till grabbed his shoulders and held him out at arm's length, staring hard into his eyes. Richard avoided his gaze and tried to squirm away, but Till held firm.

"Richard, look at me."

Richard refused. Till tightened his grip a bit, keeping it firm but not enough to hurt. 

"Look at me," he demanded again. 

Richard finally met his concerned gaze, and felt himself wilt under the scrutiny. 

"What's wrong, Rich? You're doing the exact thing you've told me not to do. You need to talk to me, not fuck me if something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," Richard said, his voice trembling a bit. 

"Clearly that's not true," Till said, an eyebrow raised. 

Richard stood, miserably looking up at Till's face. 

"Come on, Rich. Just say whatever you need to say."

Richard swallowed, and finally made a decision.  
"I don't want to talk about it right now."

Till studied his face, but nodded slowly.  
"Okay. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Richard sighed in relief, then tried to reach up to kiss Till again. Till still held him back firmly.  
"Just because you don't want to talk doesn't mean we're going to have sex. That's still using it to avoid talking. We don't have to talk, but we're not going to use sex as a distraction, okay?"

Richard felt himself slump a bit. That was exactly what he hoped they would do.

"Don't look so upset, Rich. It's not a punishment." He held his hand up to Richard's cheek and rubbed it with his thumb. "I love you too much to let you do the same thing I did. I wasn't lying when I said you don't have to talk if you don't want to. I know some things take time. I'm here whenever you are ready."

The sympathetic, encouraging look in Till's eyes was like a hot knife in Richard's heart. He felt tears brimming before he could even process it. 

Till's look went from sympathetic to concerned, and he pulled Richard close to him in a hug as he shushed him.

Richard cried silently, his shoulders hitching and his breath catching painfully. Till held him tightly, rubbing his back.

It was over. His relationship with Till was over, and it had barely even begun. He didn't deserve this love, or this man. He'd come undone at the first sign of someone showing him affection, and it had been another bandmate, of all people. He had even had the audacity to be jealous of a woman giving Till her phone number, yet he'd kissed someone almost unabashedly, and *enjoyed* it. He was a miserable, traitorous piece of filth and didn't deserve to be happy in a relationship with someone like Till. 

This realization made the tears come harder, and he began sobbing into Till's chest. Till pulled him close, picking him up easily and bringing him to the bed with him. He set Richard down gently, sitting up next to him and pulling him into his lap.

Till had no earthly idea what was bothering Richard, and he hoped it was simply the alcohol compounding a bad mood, but he would sit with him for as long as it took to calm him down.

It took several minutes, but Richard's heaving sobs finally began to quiet. He had resolved to come clean, whatever the consequences. Till deserved better, and at the very least deserved for Richard to be honest with him. 

"Till," he said shakily, mentally bracing himself for the fallback.

"Hmm?" Till responded, gently brushing Richard's hair out of his face as he held Richard's chin to face him.

"I have to tell you something."

"Go ahead, Rich. You can always tell me anything," Till said encouragingly.

Richard swallowed, then took a deep breath.  
"I don't want you think it was anything you did, it was me, I just lost it for a minute and have no idea what i was thinking--"

"Richard," Till interrupted gently. "Just tell me what you need to say. You don't need to justify anything."

Richard nodded miserably. "I-- I kissed someone, and--"

Till's face shifted almost instantaneously from a supportive, mildly concerned one to one of infinite relief. He even started laughing. Richard was extremely confused, and it must have been obvious on his face.

"That's it? Richard, I was concerned you'd killed someone, or something horrible had happened. You just kissed someone?"

Richard nodded slowly, still concerned that Till was about to snap somehow. 

Till kissed the top of his head and then smiled at him.  
"You're so sweet, little scholle. Richard, I don't care if you kiss anyone else."

"You don't?"

"Of course not. I'm not really built for monogamy, Rich. It's a conversation we do need have in depth here in the near future, but I'll never be upset at you for being with other people."

Richard studied Till's face, still somehow expecting him to flip a switch and become angry at him.

Till's face softened even more. "Richard, I promise I'm not upset. Trust me. You could go out and have sex with ten people tomorrow; I wouldn't be mad. I'd need to have a talk with you about safety, and ensuring proper protection, but I wouldn't be the least bit upset."

He leaned in and kissed across Richard's bunched up forehead, smoothing the wrinkles. Richard felt his tensed up shoulders ease, and he melted into Till's kisses. 

The two kissed and cuddled for a long time, Till ensuring Richard felt no remaining guilt for his kiss, and Richard to reassure himself that everything was okay. Till fell asleep snuggled up against Richard's back, and Richard clutching one of Till's arms and nuzzling it.

\---------------

Richard woke to a buzzing on the nightstand. He squinted at the bright light from his phone and reached over for it. Till had shifted, his back now pressed to Richard's back.

Richard unlocked his phone to find several texts. The first was a group text from Flake, reminding them all to have the flat packed up by tomorrow night. The other two were from Schneider, one sent several hours before, and the other sent just a minute before. 

The first read, "ey rich, u wake still?"

Richard rolled his eyes. Schneider's texts always devolved into choppy spellings when he was drunk. He deleted the message and looked at the other one.

"If you get this and are somehow still awake, I really need to talk to you. Please."

Richard frowned at the phone, silently debating. He knew Schneider wanted to apologize properly now that he was most likely sober, and though Richard didn't relish the idea of having to sit through that awkwardness, he did figure Schneider deserved a chance to be heard. At the very least he could inform him not to think too much of it, as Till very clearly didn't care.

He slid quietly out of bed, careful not to wake Till as he padded across the room and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Till always ran very hot at night, and Richard discovered it was most comfortable to sleep naked with him. Richard closed the door quietly behind him, and was surprised to see Schneider's light still on. He wondered how he'd convinced Flake to stay up so late.

Richard gently knocked at Schneider's door, softly enough so that no one else would be bothered. 

"Come in," he heard Schneider say quietly.

Richard opened the door, and was surprised to see only Schneider in his room, Flake's bed empty. 

"He went to sleep in Paul's room since I couldn't sleep," Schneider explained softly as Richard looked over at Flake's bed. Schneider was sitting cross legged on his bed, a book open and set pages-down beside him.

"You wanted to talk?" Richard asked, already feeling extremely awkward. 

Schneider sighed, gesturing to the chair near the bed. Richard sat down and waited for him to continue.

"Well, I wanted to apologize, first of all," he began, rubbing his hands on his pants uncomfortably. "Even drunk, I shouldn't have done that. I should have respected you and Till more than that, and I'm sorry."

Richard nodded. "Thank you for that."

"I also wanted to apologize for asking you not to say anything. That's not fair of me to ask, and I had no business asking it at all. Of course you should tell him if you feel you need to, regardless of what I want."

"Well, um, I actually already did."

Schneider's eyes widened in horror. "What? You did? When? What did he say? Is he angry at me? Fuck, I bet he's absolutely pissed--"

"He said he didn't care."

Schneider's concerned babbling stopped short, and his brow scrunched in confusion. "He doesn't care?"

"He said he isn't built for monogamy, and my being with other people doesn't bother him at all."

Schneider seemed stunned, and he sat with his eyes still wide for several long moments. 

"I see."

Richard shrugged apologetically. "Till is constantly confusing and surprising, so I guess I shouldn't have expected anything different in this case."

Schneider still seemed both concerned and stunned, so Richard walked over to him and hugged him. "Don't worry. Till's not someone to lie about how he feels, especially in this case."

Schneider looked up at him, finally realizing Richard was telling the truth. He dropped his head to release a breath, relaxing against Richard's hug, then looked up again. 

Richard's breath caught in his throat as he saw the change in Schneider's eyes. They darkened, just as they had in the bathroom, and Richard felt a fiery pang in his abdomen. They simply stared at one another for a minute, Richard holding him slightly in the remnant of a hug.

"Did you like me watching you in the car?" Schneider suddenly asked, his voice very low and gravelly. Schneider slowly pushed his hand to Richard's hip, his eyes trained up on Richard's face as he waited for any signal that Richard wanted him to stop. 

No signal came.

Richard felt himself nodding, almost without realizing it, and he swallowed heavily. 

"Did you wish I'd been the one to grab you through your pants?" Schneider's hand trailed up Richard's back, leaving goosebumps across his skin as he did so. Schneider's gaze was hypnotic, his pale blue eyes piercing into his own with a flickering lust Richard found made his knees weak. He paused for a moment, then nodded again. 

Schneider made a grunting noise at that, and allowed his hand to roam back down to Richard's pants, and he held his hip firmly. Richard's pulse thudded loudly, and he couldn't stop his body from responding, even if he wanted it to stop. 

He definitely didn't want it to stop. 

Schneider stood up then, leaving only the tiniest amount of space between their bodies, his hand still gripping Richard's hip. 

Richard looked up into Schneider's eyes, feeling his insides set aflame by the intensity he saw in them. Schneider leaned his head down, his curly hair falling on either side of his face.

He hesitantly met Richard's lips with his own, ever so gently pressing them together. As soon as his mouth met Schneider's, Richard was overwhelmed with hunger for him. He felt the desire that had been building up over the course of the night explode into a roaring fire of lust. 

He looped his hands around Schneider, pulling his hips to meet his own, hard. Schneider made a gasping sound into his mouth, stirring Richard's desire even more. He bucked his hips into Schneider's while pulling him tightly against him, and the noise he made had Richard's blood boiling. He pushed his tongue forcefully into Schneider's, who opened his mouth and met it more than willingly with his own. 

They kissed, passionately, ravenously, their bodies grinding and pressing against one another until Schneider pulled back. His gaze was hazy, clouded from arousal as he caught his breath for a moment, mouth open as he gasped for air.

Richard needed more.


	19. Late Night Tryst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Schneider wrestle, both figuratively and literally, with what they need to do.

Schneider had pulled back first, whether to simply catch his breath or because he needed to slow down, Richard wasn't sure. 

What he *was* sure of was how fucking badly he wanted Schneider. The smouldering looks in the car, how he'd stiffened watching Till stroke him, how even now he had the look of a barely held-back predator gleaming in his eyes-- it was driving Richard wild in a way he'd never felt. 

With Till, the sex had meaning and a deepness to it. It always made Richard feel happy and contented. This was something else entirely, a baser need that had him aching for it, needing it like a lion needed fresh meat.

His eyes trailed down Schneider's body hungrily, roaming back up until their gazes met again. 

"Are you--" Schneider swallowed, his breath ragged. "Is this, ok?"

Richard nodded mutely, reaching for Schneider again, but he stepped back slightly. Richard frowned. What was he doing?

"You told Till I kissed you, and he had no problem with it at all?"

"Yes, I already said that he told me he didn't care who I was with." Richard was becoming impatient with the questions, not to mention the tiniest bit uneasy.

Schneider looked doubtful, and his doubt was beginning to irk Richard. He didn't want to even acknowledge the possibility that it was his own conscience that was pricking, not Schneider's mixed signals.

Richard sighed, then said, "Look, I told him I kissed someone. I didn't say who, but his reaction was to laugh and tell me he didn't care about my seeing other people. Okay?"

Instead of relief like Richard was hoping he'd have, Schneider looked even more concerned.   
"Richard, that's not the same thing as telling him I kissed you. You don't think he would feel differently knowing it was me and not someone random?"

Richard shuffled his feet, becoming both irritated and uncomfortable. "I don't know. I didn't feel like--"

"You didn't feel like telling him it was me," Schneider said flatly. His tone killed the last of Richard's arousal, leaving him feeling awkward and guilty. He hated it. 

Schneider ran a hand through his hair and started pacing the room, making Richard feel even more anxious. 

"We can't do this," Schneider muttered. "There's no way Till would be okay with it. Fuck me, this was a huge mistake."

Richard felt both wounded and guilty, the combination of which pushed him to self-defensive indignance. He stuck a finger in Schneider's direction. "You started this," he reminded. "You kissed *me* in the bathroom."

Schneider sank onto his bed, rubbing his head with a hand in frustration. "I know. I have no idea what I was thinking. Of course Till wouldn't be okay with this, fuck."

He looked up at Richard, his blue eyes clouded with fear. "What are you going to tell him?"

Richard thought hard on that. He knew Till certainly would not be as easygoing if he came clean to him, especially not now that they'd both been after one another. A drunken kiss in the toilets was one thing; making out secretly in the dead of night was something else entirely. 

Richard chewed at a fingernail anxiously. What would happen if he said nothing? If he and Schneider agreed to keep what had happened just between them, and to never speak of it again? Richard was sure he'd feel a bit guilty for awhile, but felt confident he'd get over it. Schneider would do the same, most likely.

"I don't think I'm going to tell him," Richard said slowly. Schneider frowned, but Richard continued, "There's no real reason. We end this here, right now, and never speak of it again. No one gets hurt, we stay friends, just pretend this never happened."

Schneider's doubtful face was starting to piss Richard off.   
"Stop looking at me like that," he muttered. "You kissed *me.*"

"And you kissed me right back," Schneider countered, standing up and walking over to Richard. "You told *me* you liked me watching you. You told *me* you wished I'd been the one jerking you off." 

Schneider was now inches from Richard again, looking down with fire in his eyes. Schneider's breathing was heavy once more, and Richard felt his heart thudding rapidly as Schneider leaned in close to his face.   
"You want *me* to fuck you."

Richard swallowed, and couldn't seem to form any words. He felt the lust come roaring back, uncontrollably as this man stood over him. 

They both grabbed at one another, wrestling both for control and for their own need. They hit the bed with their legs, falling into it with barely a thought. They crashed their lips together, gasping and grunting, tearing at each other's clothes. Schneider hesitated for the briefest of moments, giving Richard the upper hand. He grabbed at the taller man's pants, feeling self-satisfied when he managed to make Schneider's entire body stiffen as he gripped at his crotch. His breath came in pants as he wrestled, need and want intermingling until they seemed indistinguishable. 

Richard roughly tore at Schneider's pants, managing to finally unzip them. He shoved his hand down into the front, earning a choked moan from Schneider. He immediately threw a leg around him, forcing him with a pull to press his body flush with Richard's as they continued their breathless wrestling. Schneider had a hand gripping the back of Richard's neck, both an attempt at control, and now for balance as he arched into Richard's touch. 

Schneider moaned, his voice husky and ragged, and he looked at Richard with eyes that may as well have been blue fire. Richard stroked him hard, fast, mercilessly until he had Schneider bucking his hips uncontrollably and shaking from the stimulation. He panted, his gasping breaths becoming shorter and shorter with Richard's feverish motions.

Schneider gritted his teeth, and Richard suddenly heard him hiss, "...stop."

He slowed, more from confusion than obedience, and Schneider took the moment of hesitation to fully pull away from him, gasping for air and turning away from him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He threw his head in his hands, and Richard yet again felt angry at the man's back and forth.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Richard demanded, out of breath and hurt from the sudden absence of touch.

Schneider gave him an incredulous look. "What's wrong with *me*? I'm not the one currently dating another band mate, Richard. You'd think you would be a bit more concerned about that, semantics be damned. If we keep this up…" Schneider genuinely looked scared, now. "I don't think stopping will come up again, and I know whatever happens afterward will be very, very bad."

Richard was angry, both from the sudden derailing of his arousal, as well as the realization that Schneider was right. If they continued, he doubted either would have the willpower to pump the brakes again before they finished. And, no, he didn't foresee any scenario that didn't end in trouble if that happened. He already could only barely see them leaving where they were now with minimal consequences. 

He sighed in frustration.

"So what do we do? We obviously can't keep this up or we'll, well…" He made a vague tumbling motion with his hand. 

Schneider nodded absently. "I really don't know. I have no idea what to do."

Richard looked the man over for the hundredth time, this time with a desperation rather than a craving. "Schneider," he said quietly.

The man looked over in slight irritation at the vulnerability in his voice. "What, Richard?"

Richard stood silent for a moment, then asked, "Did you really want me?"

Schneider's forehead wrinkled in a frown at that. What kind of stupid question--

His thoughts were cut short as he realized Richard was trembling, and his question hadn't been one of self-gratification or ego boosting. 

He'd asked in fear. 

Why Richard felt fearful of being used and discarded, Schneider had no idea. They weren't exactly emotionally close to one another. But seeing Richard standing alone, his sweatpants askew and his eyes full of a pain Schneider didn't understand made him feel more guilty than anything he'd ever done before. A white hot knife stabbed his conscience and he winced at the pain.

"Richard," he said gently, getting up from the bed and walking over to him. He put his hands on his shoulders and looked down at him. He tried to smile at the shorter man, but it ended up more of a grimace. 

"Of course I wanted you. I still do. We just can't."

This didn't seem to ease the man's tension at all, and Schneider sighed miserably. 

"I'm sorry, Richard," he said.

"You keep saying that," Richard muttered.

"I keep fucking up," Schneider added. 

Richard looked up at him again, and for a brief second, the look in Richard's eyes made Schneider want to say "fuck it" and have him right there on his bed, consequences be damned. 

But he didn't. He swallowed, gave Richard a slight hug, and then pulled back. He took a breath, then said slowly, "I think you should go back to Till."

Richard stiffened, but then nodded, realizing Schneider was serious now. He walked stiffly over to the door without so much as look back, and left without another word. 

Schneider threw himself back against his bed and stared at the empty ceiling for a long, long time.


	20. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is plagued by guilt, and is forced to decide whether or not to come clean to Till.

Richard slid quietly back into bed with Till, pulling his pants off and curling into a tight ball at the edge of the bed. Touching Till right now seemed inappropriate, and more than that, he knew he didn't deserve the comfort of his touch. The shame he knew would come began to creep through his body like the chill of cold weather.

A small whimper slipped past his lips, and he hugged himself tighter. 

It had happened again. Without fail, Richard's self-destructive habits always found him. Whether it were his inability to stay faithful, even when he desperately wanted to, or whether it were an active seeking to destroy his relationship, it always ended up the same. Richard hurt his partners, always, in turn hurting himself along with them.

Richard had always followed his wants beyond all else, checking his common sense and reasoning at the door if it meant he got to satisfy a craving. Cigarettes, sex, heroin, all were wants that trumped his higher reasoning.

He knew what he needed to do. He needed to tell Till, confess what had happened, admit he was wrong, take whatever consequences came of it like a man, and ask for help to get his priorities straightened up again. 

But… 

With a sigh, he knew he wasn't quite ready to do that yet. He decided to ask for help with something else; not as big of a craving, but one he still felt a strong press for.

He rolled over and gently nudged his partner. Till shifted in bed, then at Richard's continued soft poking, he rolled over to meet Richard's pained face.

"Mm, scholle" he said blearily, sleep making his voice rough and thick. Till reached for him, but Richard held him back.

"I need some help, Till."

Till rubbed his eyes, slowly becoming more awake. "What do you need, Rich?"

"I really want a cigarette. I need you to help me not smoke it."

Till chuckled a bit, then despite Richard's slight resistance, pulled him close.

"What kind of help would be best?" Till asked, placing kisses along the top of Richard's head.

Richard felt himself melt into Till's embrace, his head falling to Till's chest.  
"This is nice," he said quietly. "And then I just need to talk, I think."

Till grunted in agreement, holding Richard tightly. 

Richard marveled at Till's affection, even at 5 in the morning when he'd been dead asleep. If Till had asked the same of him, Richard doubted his mood would have been half as sweet.

He pressed himself to Till's chest, a part of him terrified that if he let go, it would all evaporate, as it had always done in the past. 

Till just held him, stroking his hair and giving him time and comfort. He didn't know what had woken Richard up or made him so tense, but knew he'd talk about it in time. If this was all he needed to help break his habits, Till was happy enough to oblige, regardless of how sleepy he was. 

Richard allowed himself to feel comforted, despite the anxiety boiling inside. He needed to talk. He had spent so much time begging Till to speak to him and open up to him, and so much less time focusing on his own thoughts. 

He cleared his throat, and Till pulled back a bit, looking down at him.  
"Do you want to stay there, or do you want to get up and have coffee? I'm fairly awake, but if you want to stay in bed, that's fine. Wherever is most comfortable for you."

Richard thought hard on that, much to Till's amusement. "It's a simple question, Rich."

Richard waved a hand, determined to decide on the best place for speaking his mind. 

"Could we take blankets out to the back balcony?"

Till nodded. "You want to watch the sunrise?"

"Yes."

Till kissed his head again, and said, "Of course."

They gathered up the various quilts and blankets Till had all over his bed and carried them out to the living room after each donning a pair of pants. Richard noticed Schneider's light was now turned off, and he wondered if he'd actually gone to sleep. 

Till opened the back sliding door and scooted out their sectional couch onto the balcony along with their mess of blankets. As Richard set up a little nest of them on the couch, Till went to brew some coffee. 

Richard sat on the couch, lost in thought as he gazed out at the darkened city. A few cars moved around, getting in their early commute to work before the rest of the world woke up. 

He didn't want to do this. No matter how understanding Till was, there were limits, and he sensed this would be a severe breach of Till's limits when he told him. He had no earthly idea how he would react. He just hoped that at the end of it, he wouldn't be left alone. He couldnt bear the thought of Till abandoning him, even if he very well deserved it. 

Richard shuffled deeper under the blankets, hiding from his painful thoughts. The door slid open and Till stepped out to join him, two steaming mugs of coffee in his grasp. He set them down on the little table wedged next to the sectional, and then burrowed down into the blankets to find Richard. He grabbed him and pulled him into his lap, his back to Till's chest, and kissed his head yet again as he wrapped his giant arms around his body protectively. 

Richard sighed. He should enjoy this while it lasted.

The two sat in silence for some minutes, watching the darkened sky begin to ever so slowly lighten as time went on. 

"How do you feel?" Till finally asked. His hand had slipped to Richard's chest, and Richard was sure he could feel the anxious hammering of his heart beneath his palm. 

"Worried," Richard said truthfully.

Till nodded. "I can feel it. Your body gets tight, and your heart beats too quickly. You don't soften when I hold you."

Richard was impressed with how perceptive Till was with the physical side of things. While he himself had a knack for visual and verbal cues, Till seemed to be much more in tune with his body and reactions. It was fascinating in a way to see how they meshed together, complimenting one another with their strengths.

"I didn't tell you everything last night," Richard began, swallowing hesitantly. 

Till said nothing, but simply ran his thumb along Richard's arm comfortingly in response, encouraging him to continue. 

"I said I kissed someone," he started, already feeling himself tripping over the words in his head as he struggled to figure out how to say them.

"I already told you, if you did more than kiss, I don't care, Rich." Till kissed the back of his head and squeezed him tightly, emphasizing his point with his body. 

"I know," Richard said, becoming more quiet. "I just-- I didn't tell you who it was, on purpose."

Though he stayed rubbing his arm, Richard could almost feel Till's confusion through his body.  
"If it's another of my ex-wives or girlfriends, you don't have to tell me or feel badly about that either. In fact, I'd prefer not to know," Till said with a chuckle. "Do as you want, but they're my exes for a reason."

Richard shook his head hard. "No, not that."

Till stopped his gentle rubbing but stayed holding Richard in a firm hug. "What, then?"

Richard took a deep breath. Here it was. Here was the last moment he'd be allowed to enjoy with Till like this before it all was torn away because of his stupidity. 

He looked out, seeing the very first rays of sunlight breaking over the horizon. It was fitting. As his relationship ended, a new day started, despite the pain or destruction he left in his wake. The earth still moved on regardless.

"Rich?" Till nudged him slightly, pulling him from his morose reverie. 

"I-- I made out with Schneider."

Richard braced for angry words, a push to the side, yelling, stomping around, anything, but received none of it.

"Schneider?" Till clarified, still holding Richard close. 

Richard nodded miserably, but was more confused as to why Till wasn't reacting as he expected. He was afraid to turn and look, but felt he had to. He scooted slightly away from Till so he could turn and meet his gaze. 

Till simply looked confused. There was no anger, hate, or betrayal-- just a befuddlement that almost looked comical.

"You made out with Schneider? As in, "Doom" Schneider?"

Richard nodded again, more slowly this time. What the hell was Till thinking, and why wasn't he reacting?

Till blinked, then stood up quietly and left Richard on the balcony.

There it was. Instead of anger, he'd broken Till's heart, and that realization served to make him feel even more miserable than he'd expected.

But before he could wallow in self pity, he heard the door to Schneider's room open. He knew it was Schneider's, as his room was directly next to the living room.

Richard suddenly became very afraid, and hurriedly untangled himself from the mess of blankets and rushed over to see what was going on. But as soon as he rounded the living room corner, Till was closing the door again. He motioned with his head for Richard to go back to the balcony. When he hesitated, Till gently picked him up and forced him out.

He plopped Richard back down onto the couch and burrowed in next to him again. Richard stared at him warily.

"What did you say to him?" he asked slowly. 

"I asked if you two made out," Till said simply, reaching over and taking a sip of his coffee. 

Richard was dumbfounded. "What did he say?"

"He tried to explain everything, but I just asked if it were true. He said yes, that was it." 

"That was it?"

"Yes, little parrot who repeats what I say. That was it."

Richard closed his mouth, and Till rolled his eyes at how dumbstruck he looked. 

"Come here," Till set down his coffee and motioned for Richard to sit against him again. 

Richard hesitated, making Till's eyebrow raise at him. 

"I said come here," he repeated, sternly this time. 

Richard obeyed, scooting over into Till's lap.

"Now, you don't need to be afraid that I'll come unhinged or snap or what have you. Relax." Till pushed Richard's clenched shoulders down for emphasis, forcing him to ease his tightened stance.

Richard slowly allowed himself to sink back against Till again, confused, but thankful that he was still able to do so.

"Good. Now, I just want you to tell me why you hid that from me, especially after I'd already told you I didn't care."

Richard swallowed, then said a bit shakily, "I didn't think the same sentiment applied to our band mates."

Till snorted and drank again from his coffee. "Generally speaking, yes, those two would be very different situations. In this case though, my statement was true for essentially anyone. Now, as I said before, should you find yourself wanting to be with others I'd been with, I only ask that you don't tell me or bring them back around me. Exes should stay exes. As far as Schneider," here Till just shook his head. "I'm mostly just confused. How did that happen?"

"I'm really sorry, Till, I--"

"Stop apologizing for something I don't care about," Till said flatly. "If you truly want me to be angry, that would be how to do it. Just tell me how it happened. I really am just curious about that."

After a deep breath, Richard told the story, detailing Schneider's kiss in the bathroom, his heated stares during the car ride home, his text that morning and how the two had come undone with each other after Schneider had attempted to apologize. 

Richard noticed Till's lips had pressed into a thin line when he mentioned Schneider coming on to him for the second time in his room, but other than that, he stayed very impassive as he listened. 

"And you liked it? It wasn't forced."

"No, not forced at all. And, yes." Richard ducked his head shamefully, but Till caught his chin with his hand.

"Sweet little Scholle," Till hummed quietly, kissing his nose. "You've never been with someone in an open relationship, have you?"

Richard shook his head, his face still red. "After that morning when Schneider commented on your hand and my eye, I thought you, well--"

"The reason I was angry then," Till cut off Richard's stammering, "was because he implied that I was willfully hurting you. That is something that does indeed make me angry. Now, had *he* hurt you, or if he had forced himself on you, that's another scenario in which I would be very, *very* angry."

Richard saw his eyes harden as he spoke, and was awed at how different and terrifying Till looked when he was enraged. Just as quickly as he saw it, however, the anger was gone, and Till looked down lovingly at him. 

"You aren't hurt, and you weren't forced, and it does seem you were enjoying yourself. That doesn't make me angry. I do wish you'd have told me a bit sooner."

Richard looked up quizzically as Till pulled him close again. "What do you mean?"

Till grinned, and pressed his hips a bit up against Richard's ass. Richard suddenly felt the very prominent morning wood pressing at him. "Because," Till explained nipping at Richard's ear, "I'd have loved to know that we were giving him a show in the car."

Richard felt his blood dump southward at the thought, something he'd never have expected to turn him on. But there it was.

The two kissed and playfully grabbed at one another as the sun rose on a new day, scattering the darkness of both the night and their fears with it.


	21. Tsunami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till and Richard begin their morning routine together, until Till bumps into some furniture.

After hearing the rest of the house starting to wake up, Till had carried Richard back to his room and dumped him into bed. He'd made love to him, gently and softly, reminding Richard just how much he meant to him. 

For Richard, it was far beyond the opposite of how he'd expected it all to end up. He had felt a bit guilty, and above all undeserving of Till's seemingly endless affection, but it was very hard to stay bothered about anything when Till was buried to the hilt inside of him, breathing loving words into his ear as Richard moaned through his pleasure.

When they'd finished, Till held onto him for longer than he normally would have. He wanted Richard to also feel wanted, secure, and above all else, loved. He would never let it be said of him that he neglected those he cared for.

Richard welcomed the extra attention greedily, his guilt finally assuaged by the onslaught of affection from his partner. He really didn't understand Till, even less so the more he grew to know him, it seemed, but he accepted it.

After laying together for a few minutes blissfully, Till squeezed Richard tightly once more, then rolled over and stood up from the bed. 

Richard still felt very winded, even though they'd been much gentler and calmer with their sex this time. Perhaps his breathlessness was from love? 

Richard chuckled aloud at the thought, causing Till to turn around with a raised eyebrow.

Richard shook his head, smiling broadly. "I was just laughing at how sappy this is."

"What is?"

Richard waved his hand around. "All of this. Being here was the last place I expected to be this morning."

Till snorted. "You thought I was going to throw you out on your ass, didn't you?"

Richard nodded, wincing apologetically. 

"Well, lucky for you, I have next to no feelings of jealousy in my body. The only time I'd ever end up jealous would be if you left me entirely for someone else."

"Well there's certainly no chance of that happening," Richard said confidently, sitting up in the bed. 

"Oh? Even with Schneider making passes at you? Staring you down with his heated, fiery blue eyes in the car?"

Richard threw his pillow at Till, who laughed as he ducked and dodged the projectile. 

Richard heard a thunk, then suddenly Till's laughing face froze and turned stark white. Till opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came. His eyes rolled back and he staggered backward, clutching his cast-encased hand in his other hand. 

"Till?" Richard asked as he leaped up, alarmed. "What happened?"

Till had sunk down to the floor, cradling his casted arm in his lap, his shoulders shaking. He shook his head back and forth violently, and was about to beat the floor with his good hand before Richard caught it in midair and held it tightly to keep him from hurting himself.

"Till stop; it's ok, I've got you. What happened? Did you hit your hand?"

Till sucked in fast, short breaths, and Richard saw tears trailing from the sides of his eyes, squeezed shut in pain. He nodded, just barely, gritting his teeth and clenching and un-clenching his good fist.

"Oh fuck, Till, I'm so sorry. What do you need me to do? Do you need me to get you anything?"

Till shook his head. 

Richard felt helpless, rubbing Till's back and holding his good hand to keep Till from hitting anything.

He hushed and tried to console him as best he could, but he knew he could only do so much. 

After a few minutes, Till's breathing had slowed from frantic gasps to heavy, labored breaths. He opened his eyes, and Richard felt awful seeing the pain in them as clear as their green coloring. 

"Till, please let me get you something for the pain," Richard begged. "Let *me* be the one to give you your pain."

Till stubbornly shook his head, and said though tightly gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

Richard held him close, but his gaze drifted over to the pair of pants he'd had on during Till's visit to the hospital, draped over Oli's bed. He remembered the card the doctor had slipped him: it was the doctor's cell number with an inscription that read to call anytime if the pain became unmanageable. 

The word unmanageable had been underlined, and Richard had taken the hint. He looked down at Till, who was biting his lip to keep from crying, it seemed. Richard made a decision then, and hoped that asking for forgiveness later would be better than asking permission right now. His track record for apologizing was pretty solid, at least. 

He winced at the thought. That made him sound as though he were taking advantage of Till's continued forgiveness, and that was certainly not how he saw it. 

This was for Till. He was making a decision he felt Till couldn't, and that justified it.

\-----------

Till had rolled out of bed with a bounce after informing Richard of his lack of jealousy, save the one instance. 

"Well there's certainly no chance of that happening," Richard said with a smirk as he looked up at Till. 

Till was feeling rambunctious. Sex always put him in an energetic, playful mood, particularly *good* sex. This had been especially good sex, and now he felt especially feisty.

"Oh?" he teased, being sure to give Richard wide, innocent eyes as he asked, "Even with Schneider making passes at you? Staring you down with his heated, fiery blue eyes in the car?"

He anticipated the throw of the pillow before he even saw it coming, and he laughed as he ducked his head and flailed his arm out to dodge the pillow Richard threw at him. 

He heard a dull thud, and stars suddenly shot into his vision as an electric current shocked up his arm. He couldn't think, couldn't process for several seconds, couldn't even breathe, and then the pain came crashing down like a tsunami. 

He'd not been ready for it. 

A revelation struck him in the blinding moment of pain.

That was the root of the problem with his addiction to pain-- he called it masochism, but it went far, far deeper than simply enjoying or getting sexual pleasure from it. He needed pain, craved it, almost more than Richard did with his cigarettes, or perhaps even his past with heroin. It was a deep, deep seeded need, but it only truly helped him under very specific circumstances. 

It served as relief, as when he and Richard had their weekly meetings. 

It served to break him, on the rare occasions that he'd needed to be broken in order to open himself to someone else. 

It served as punishment, when he needed pain to feel as though he'd atoned for the wrong he had done. 

All of these purposes were served through pain, but only through the very specific categorizations of it. Only if he were expecting the pain, prepared and ready for it. Unexpected pain terrified and paralyzed him.

Just like now. 

The pain came in agonizing waves, throbbing and pulsing down his arm. He felt as though his hand had been dipped in molten metal. 

He became vaguely aware of the fact that he'd fallen to his knees, and felt the ground, hard and cold beneath him. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog that pain was clouding it with. Maybe if he hit his other hand, this pain would fade--

Just as he was about to slam his good hand into the floor, he felt it caught, pulled away from him. 

Richard's voice hit his ears, faintly, "Till stop; it's ok, I've got you. What happened? Did you hit your hand?"

He clenched his jaw, angry that Richard had stopped him from giving himself more pain to distract him. He nodded his head, trying to communicate to Richard to let his hand go. He wasn't crying, he didn't think, but only barely.

"Oh fuck, Till, I'm so sorry. What do you need me to do? Do you need me to get you anything?"

He needed Richard to let go of his fucking hand. But he shook his head. 

He didn't know how long he sat there, agonized as the pain just kept coming in awful throbs and flashes. He could occasionally hear and feel Richard rubbing him, consoling him, but it did nothing for him. 

Eventually, after several eternities Till was sure, he felt the pain dull enough to where he could open his eyes at least. Richard was in his face immediately, concern covering every last inch of his expression. It would be funny if Till wasn't in such awful pain.

"Till," Richard begged him, still looking in his face, "please let me get you something for the pain. "Let *me* be the one to give you your pain."

Of all the things Till did *not* want right now, Richard doling out pain was at the top of the list. Part of him knew he meant later, and wanted to ease his pain right now, but he didn't care to think about it too hard.

"I'm fine," he said, his jaw clenched still. He could speak now; that was good. The pain was leaving; very slowly, but it was leaving. 

It another solid ten minutes before Till felt stable enough to get to his feet. He sincerely felt as though his arm would be better served getting chopped off. 

Richard, once convinced that he was stable enough to leave alone, went and got dressed. Till let him go, choosing instead to sit and very gently fall back against the bed, easing his arm back down with it. 

He felt his eyes droop. Apparently that much pain sapped your energy. He heard Richard hurriedly mentioning something about going to the store, but Till waved him off with his good hand. How he was laying mitigated the pain a good 50% somehow, and he was determined to stay absolutely still to keep it that way. 

"Just let me sleep a bit, Rich," he said, exhaustion creeping into his words. Not only had he been woken up at an ungodly hour (nicely though the wakeup had turned out), but after fighting through that pain, he needed to rest. 

He felt a kiss on his lips, and he grunted in acknowledgement.  
"Bring back some whiskey," he muttered as Richard turned the light off on his way out the door. If he couldn't hurt himself, alcohol would do just fine to dull his pain. 

Till drifted off to sleep, dozing lightly as he kept his hand propped on top of a pillow.

\---------

Richard threw a coat on as he hunted for his boots. He couldn't remember where he'd kicked them off last night. Something else had been on his mind.

"What are you looking for?"

Speaking of something else…

"I can't find my boots. I need to go get Till some pain medicine."

Schneider's brow furrowed in concern. "Is he all right?"

Richard sat down as he spotted the boots around the corner in the living room and grabbed them. He shrugged as he put them on.  
"He hit his hand on the closet door and looked like he was about to pass out. It's really bad."

"I didn't think Till cared much for pain killers," Schneider mused. 

"It doesn't matter what he cares for when he isn't coherent enough to make those decisions," Richard snapped. "That's why I'm making them."

Schneider held his hands up in an apologetic motion.  
"I didn't mean that as an accusation. I'm sure he needs them if you say he does."  
He stayed, looking down at Richard as he finished tying his boots.

Richard again felt his stomach jump when he looked up at the drummer's eyes, but he brushed the feeling aside as he kept his mind focused on helping Till. 

"Can I come with you?" Schneider asked, a bit hesitantly as he held out a hand to help Richard up. 

Richard paused for a moment, then grabbed the man's offered hand and hauled himself up.  
"All right. Let's go, then."


	22. Smoke Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider accompanies Richard to get Till's medication, and brings a new viewpoint to one of Richard's current struggles.

Schneider was remarkably quiet on the way to the pharmacy. Richard had expected at least some questioning of Till's reaction to finding out about their tryst, but Schneider said nothing. He simply tapped out little drum beats on his legs in time with the radio as he looked out the window. 

Richard sighed internally. He guessed he'd have to be the one to break the ice. 

"I'm sorry Till barged in on you like that this morning," Richard said. 

Schneider glanced over at him and then very quickly put his head back down and continued his rhythmic tapping. 

Richard squirmed in the driver's seat. Why wasn't he saying anything? Was he still upset that he got woken up--

Oh. Right.

Schneider had not been privy to the conversation he and Till had about them making out. He was probably convinced that Till was biding his time before murdering him. He'd almost certainly come with Richard in order to leave the house and get away from him. 

A laugh threatened to break the tension, but Richard held it back. He didn't want to irritate Schneider. 

"So, Till and I talked," he began, and saw out of the corner of his eye that he now had Schneider's undivided attention.

"He is perfectly fine if I'm with other people, including you."

Schneider released a visible sigh of relief, and Richard nearly chuckled at him.

"He says he doesn't really do monogamy, and the fact that it was you didn't make a difference. He, um--"  
Richard cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and continued, "He actually said he would have enjoyed knowing you were watching us in the car."

A glance over at Schneider was a bad idea. A very bad idea. 

Richard felt a throb in a very inconvenient place as he met Schneider's gaze. How could such pale eyes look so dark?

He cleared his throat again and focused intently on the road ahead.  
"So, Till is being very stubborn and refused to get pain medication. The doctor gave me his card and said he'd be happy to call in a prescription for him since he won't ask for it himself."

"That doesn't sound good," Schneider said, his voice a bit husky.

Richard tried to ignore his tone. "I know, but he can't function when things like that happen. It was just a small bump to his cast, and it almost knocked him out."

"I don't think he'll take it."

"It doesn't matter," Richard insisted. "If he can't function, he needs someone else to help him."

Schneider shrugged and slouched in the passenger seat a bit more, spreading his legs apart. Richard busied himself with the radio, flicking through stations before settling on some alternative rock.

He kept his eyes glued to the road after picking the radio station, afraid that if his gaze strayed, he might run off the road after getting snagged in his friend's bear-trap like stare.

"So how will you get him to take the medicine?" Schneider asked.

Richard breathed a sigh of relief that his voice had settled into a normal register. It made keeping the blood in his head and not in other parts of his body much easier.

"I don't know. I'll mix it in his coffee or something."

"Did you talk to Flake about it?"

Richard shook his head, then said, "Flake thought he was already on the medicine. Till didn't want me to tell him otherwise."

"That sounds like he really doesn't want to take it, Richard. Are you sure--"

"Yes," Richard stated firmly. "I'm sure."

Richard could see Schneider again raise his hands in submission out of the corner of his eye.  
"You know him better than I do, clearly."

They sat for awhile, the radio the only noise between them until Schneider tried to subtly clear his throat; it just ended up sounding like an awkward grunt. He didn't say anything afterward though, which made Richard curious. He stole a glance over and immediately regretted it.

He'd seen Schneider shifting his legs, angling his body slightly away from Richard and crossing his arms tightly, but much more importantly, Richard had seen his attempt at hiding himself. 

Richard felt his face get hot at that knowledge, and even more so as it seemed Schneider was trying to keep his arousal unseen. Richard first thought he'd done it on purpose, perhaps an attempt to tease him, but repeated glances at him showed Schneider was very red, and very much trying to sink into his seat in shame, away from Richard's view.

Richard gripped the steering wheel and tried to force himself to think of tragedies, math equations, counting paint lines on the road, anything to keep his mind busy elsewhere, lest he be forced to hide himself as well. 

The pharmacy finally came into view and he sighed in relief.

"Thank fuck," they both said at the same time. They looked at one another and forced smiles, trying to somehow ease the sexual tension that threatened to choke them both to death.

"I'm going to the counter to get the prescription," Richard said hurriedly. 

"I'll go get a drink, I think," Schneider said, still hunched away from Richard. 

Richard nodded, then parked the car and rapidly made his way into the store.

Schneider waited an extra minute or two before going inside as well, ensuring his pants were less confining before getting out, sighing in irritation as he went. 

\---------

The medication had been a bit expensive, but was ready when Richard had gotten to the counter. He'd motioned for Schneider to get back in the car, passing him smoking with a half drunk bottle of sparkling water in his hand. 

Schneider tapped out and flicked away the remains of his cigarette and followed Richard dutifully to the car. 

As they got in, Richard sniffed and then sighed.

"I miss stinking of cigarettes," he said mournfully.

"Did you forget yours? Here," Schneider fished in his pocket and held out his pack to Richard. "You can have mine. I don't smoke enough to keep a pack around anyway. It's just for stress relief."

Richard grimaced, then said, "Unfortunately I can't. Till isn't allowed to smoke until his hand heals, and he insists I don't either."

Schneider frowned at that. "And who the hell does he think he is to tell you whether to smoke or not?"

Richard stuttered a bit at the blunt question, saying, "Well, he does have a point, because I shouldn't be giving him even secondhand smoke until he's better--"

"So smoke outdoors." Schneider's expression had fallen, and it made Richard feel terribly awkward to look at him.

"He said it isn't fair if I smoke while he can't," Richard insisted, though his voice was becoming quieter and less convinced. 

"Then he shouldn't have punched the floor."  
Schneider's hardened look that he leveled at him made Richard anxious.

"That's what I told him, but--"

"So you're his pet? Follow him around and do as he pleases, even if it's not fair for you?"

"No, that's not--"

"That's what it sounds like."

Richard felt horribly conflicted. What Schneider was saying made perfect sense. He really shouldn't be held to such a standard just on Till's whims. But on the other hand, he *had* promised Till that he was in it together with him, and would break his smoking habit until Till had fully healed. 

"Whatever," Schneider said, shaking his head. "Feel free to be Till's little doggie."  
Schneider turned away from Richard and pulled another cigarette from his pack to hold in his mouth as he fished for his lighter. He lit it and began smoking, staring pointedly out the window and not bothering to look over at Richard. 

Richard felt his heart hammering with anxious indecision. He wasn't a pet, his mind argued at him. He was a man, who was fully able to think for himself. It wouldn't hurt Till if he smoked in the car, far away from him. Besides, he could brush his teeth once home and blame the cigarette stink on his clothes on Schneider. 

He stuck his hand out toward Schneider, who finally deigned to look back over at him. 

"Yes?" he asked, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. 

"Give me one."

Schneider smiled at that, and slid one from his pack. He bypassed Richard's hand and trailed the cigarette across Richard's cheek and down to his lips, gently sliding it between them. Richard tried very, very hard not to look at him, but when Schneider pulled his lighter back out, he was forced to tilt his head slightly toward him to get his cigarette lit. Schneider was hard again. Richard swallowed heavily.

"There," Schneider said in appreciation as Richard took his first drag of the newly lit cigarette. Relief flooded Richard's body and he moaned with the first release of smoke. 

"Thank you," he said quietly, enjoying the cigarette with half-closed eyes, still trying to keep a close watch on the road.

"Don't thank me for standing up for yourself," Schneider advised, taking his cigarette between two fingers and lazily blowing smoke across at Richard.

Richard smiled, and eased back against the driver's seat contentedly. His anxiety had all but disappeared. He stole a glance back at Schneider, and found him laid back on the seat, his legs spread wide, and a very, very noticeable bulge down the side of his pant leg. 

Richard chanced a look at his face, and found his pale blue eyes trained on Richard's face. 

Richard hurriedly looked back at the road as his face flushed again.

He heard Schneider chuckle at him.  
"Don't worry. I'll just take care of myself when we get home while you attend to your wounded boyfriend."

Richard felt indignant but didn't know why. Perhaps it was Schneider's condescending tone of voice that had him riled, because what he'd said hadn't been particularly rude or untrue.

It struck him suddenly why he felt irritated. Schneider was implying he'd have to take care of himself rather than be with Richard, as he would be doting on Till. For some reason, this rubbed Richard very much the wrong way.

Richard felt his spine stiffen ever so slightly before he made a decision.  
"If Till is still asleep when we get back," he said quietly, "I want you to fuck me."

Schneider inhaled sharply at that, and Richard saw him stiffen out of the corner of his eye.

He was quiet for a moment.

"And what if I just want your mouth?" Schneider finally asked, his voice heavy.

"Then you'll get it."

Schneider readjusted his legs, and Richard could have sworn he saw him grab himself slightly as he did so, but his eyes were still mainly focused on the road. Schneider's dick would *not* be the cause of a car wreck, he thought determinedly. 

They didn't speak for the rest of the car ride, and Schneider pointedly let Richard leave the car first. 

He watched as Richard stomped the cigarette butt on the street outside their flat, then hurried inside with his bag of medication.


	23. Wild Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard falls prey to a predator, in the best of ways.

Richard burst into the house a little too quickly, nearly tripping himself up the stairs to the door in his haste. He almost slammed Paul with the door as he fell inside awkwardly. 

"Sorry," Richard muttered as he slipped past, making a bee-line for Till's room. Paul rolled his eyes but apparently had better things to do than be concerned about Richard's comings and goings.

Richard poked his head in the door to Till's room, and saw Oli quietly folding some clothes and packing a trunk. He waved at Richard, and Richard waved distractedly. He saw Till sleeping, his hand propped on a pillow next to him.

Satisfied seeing him still in bed, Richard darted back out of the room and to the kitchen, stuffing the bag of medicine in one of the now-empty cabinets. Flake wasn't in the room, so he assumed he'd gone for a mid-morning walk. 

Richard tried to slow his hammering pulse, but failed. He felt an odd combination of excitement and anxiety as he approached Schneider's room. He heard the dull thumping of music coming from it, and was a bit confused. He knocked lightly, but after hearing no answer, he opened the door.

"Schneider?" he asked, easing into the room. "What's with the music--"

Richard was suddenly yanked sideways and pressed to the wall, Schneider's body trapping him there. Richard stared in suprise up at the same blazing blue eyes he'd been nearly afraid of seeing earlier. Now, though, he welcomed them with fire matching them in his own eyes. 

Schneider grabbed him by the back of the neck, as he'd done earlier when they'd been making out on the bed. He firmly pressed his lips against Richard, gripping the back of his neck even more tightly. Richard moaned, and the noise made Schneider shove him against the wall even harder. Richard suddenly understood why the music was on.

The drummer planted his feet on either side of Richard's feet, trapping him further. He thrust his hips forcefully against the smaller man as he kissed him hard. 

Richard was amazed at the aggression from Schneider. His earlier comparison of the drummer to a wild animal was seeming more and more apt, and Richard was feeling himself fall apart quickly. 

Schneider bucked his hips again, harder this time, making Richard's shoulders bang against the wall. Had Schneider not been holding his neck, his head would have hit it as well. The thought, instead of worrying him, aroused him intensely. Schneider seemed not to have the restraint Till did, or if he did, he chose to ignore it, instead throwing all of his desire and compulsion into his movements without fetter.

Richard whimpered as Schneider bit his lip, hard, and Schneider snarled at the sound. He moved his mouth to Richard's neck and bit down there as well. As Richard cried out in both pain and pleasure, Schneider thrust violently yet again at him in response.

Richard squirmed, terribly aroused but completely unsure what to do with himself. He'd never been with someone so aggressive or forceful before. He gasped as Schneider raked his fingernails down his back, not enough to hurt badly, but enough to make his body shake from the sensation. 

"Doom," he started to say in between shivers, but Schneider snapped his gaze up to him before he could finish his sentence. The man moved his forearm up to Richard's neck and pressed lightly, enough for Richard to feel the pressure, but not enough to actually choke him. He gave Richard the briefest questioning look, and Richard nodded breathlessly. The intensity returned tenfold to his eyes, and he pressed harder. Richard rolled his eyes back in pleasure, grinding his hips into Schneider's. Schneider finally removed his hand from the back of Richard's neck and reached down to very firmly grasp as the stiffness in Richard's pants. He rubbed and raked his fingernails across the outside of his pants, eliciting a groan and a flinch from Richard, his voice a bit choked from the pressure on his neck. Schneider pressed harder as he rubbed with more intensity, his eyes flicking back up to Richard's and locking him in place with his stare. 

Richard couldn't look away, and somehow he felt himself building to climax without any skin contact on his member at all. He thrust into Schneider's grip, pulling in a raspy breath under the weight of his forearm, eyes trained on the other man's without deviation. 

Schneider pressed even harder, while simultaneously rubbing and gripping, and finally leaning down to bite hard on Richard's chest.

That did it. Richard came unglued from the triad of sensations: the rough, firm rubbing over his pants, the tight, choking press of his muscular arm, and the sharp, stabbing pain from the bite on his chest.

He tried to scream, but Schneider fully cut off his breath with a final press. Richard bucked his hips uncontrollably, spasming and wrenching his body with the waves. He felt the wetness in his pants as Schneider finally released both his hold on Richard's throat as well as his clenched teeth on his chest. He leaned back, breathing heavily, the same ravenous look in his eyes still burning brightly.

Richard gasped for air, flailing his arm up to the wall to brace himself as he calmed down. His chest heaved as he caught his breath back, and he felt horribly naked under Schneider's hungry, roaming gaze. He felt like a piece of meat being weighed before consumption, and somehow, that feeling served to arouse him even further. He felt himself stiffening back quickly, and was astounded by the speed of it. 

Schneider's keen eyes didn't miss it either, and he got a very self-satisfied look about him. 

Richard swallowed with his eyes staring up at Schneider's, and without being asked or instructed, sunk to his knees. His gaze flicked down, and he could see the twitch in Schneider's pants in response to his submissive movement, only inches away from his face.

He immediately put a hand on the back of Richard's head and widened his stance, grabbing at his zipper and yanking his pants down just far enough to free his cock. He pulled Richard's head to it without a second's hesitation, and Richard obediently opened his mouth. 

Schneider was smaller than Till, both in length and width, but it almost made giving him head even more pleasant. Richard was able to suck right down to the hilt, his nose pressed to Schneider's crotch as the man groaned. He could take his length easily, and found himself able to focus on moving his tongue experimentally rather than technique for fitting him in his throat. Schneider pulled Richard's head tightly to his body and held him with both hands tangled tightly in his hair. 

A moan made it's way from Richard's lungs to his mouth, catching itself on Schneider's dick and making him spasm at the feel. He grunted and pulled Richard's head back a bit, then began pumping his hips rhythmically. Richard found it not at all difficult to move in time with Schneider's pushing and pulling at his head, and he allowed himself to be manhandled as Schneider wished. 

All too soon, Schneider started grunting harder, and yanking at Richard's head with much more force. Richard put his hands up to Schneider's legs for balance as the man began to put his back into his thrusts.

He gasped suddenly and released a loud groan, giving a final snap of his hips forward while pulling Richard's head tight to his body. Richard felt the man's cock swell a bit on his tongue, and then ejaculate down his throat. He worried he was about to choke and tried to pull his head back, but Schneider's hold on his head was iron, and he kept him still as he growled through his orgasm. Richard remembered to breathe through his nose, and was able to keep himself still as Schneider finished. He tasted more bitter than Till, but still not unpleasant.

Schneider finally let go and pushed Richard's head back roughly. Richard saw him flinch in what looked like pain as he released the drummer's softening dick from his mouth. He must be extremely sensitive after he finishes, Richard suspected.

Schneider's chest heaved as he looked down at Richard, the fire in his eyes finally dimmed. Richard swallowed again and looked up, eager to see if he'd done a good job. 

Schneider simply nodded at him and held a hand down to help him up. Richard took it gratefully and stood up. Schneider pulled his pants back up, and as he buttoned them, he said in a somewhat hoarse voice, "You should probably go check on Till."

Richard felt a little wounded that Schneider didn't seem to care for any affection afterward, but it didn't really suprise him either. He nodded, then shuffled his feet, unsure if he should say thank you or simply leave. 

Schneider gave him an amused look, probably finding his confusion funny. He leaned forward and gave Richard a kiss on his cheek, and then nipped his ear sharply. Richard flinched, but found he liked it. He smiled at Schneider as he put a hand to his ear. Schneider snorted, then rubbed a hand in Richard's hair, giving him some light affection. Richard beamed happily at that, then obeyed and left to go back to Till's room.


	24. Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul gives Richard some sage advice, as well as some helpful insight into Till's past.

Richard shuffled out of Schneider's room and over to his own that he shared with Paul, on the rare occasions that he was even in the room. Luckily, Paul was in the bathroom and not around to see Richard shamefully change out of his wet pants and into a fresh shirt and jeans.

After briefly checking on Till once more and finding him still asleep as Oli finished packing, Richard figured he should do likewise. He began collecting the various items of clothing and random memorabilia he took with him everywhere and packed them, while simultaneously trying to figure out how he felt about Schneider. 

The pulls he felt toward Schneider were completely different than the ones he felt for Till. When he thought of Till, warmth blossomed in his chest. He felt secure and happy, and wanted to ensure Till was also happy and secure. 

With Schneider, he felt something much less defined, more raw. He didn't feel comfort or warmth, but rather fire and savagery. He liked both, but the more he thought on it, the more he realized he was drawn overwhelmingly to Till.

He knew he had a problem with attention-seeking, in whatever form it decided to manifest. He'd been told as much not only by his friends, but also the counselors they'd all seen over the years. He guessed that was why he'd been so eager to follow Schneider's lead. Not that he wasn't attracted to him; he certainly was. But it was less an attraction and more of an affirming lust. 

Richard was nearly finished packing when Paul came into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

"Hey, Rich," he greeted cheerfully. "All packed?"

"Almost."

"Good. Flake got on everyone's asses to hurry up so we can get it all moved out tonight. Where'd you and Schneider run off to this morning?"

Richard blanched, but then realized Paul meant where they'd gone in the car.  
"Oh, out to the pharmacy."

"Till in a lot of pain?"

Richard nodded. "Paul, can I ask you something?" 

Paul pulled on a pair of pants before turning around. "Yeah, of course. What's on your mind?"

Richard rubbed his face with a hand, stalling to give himself time to think. He really didn't know what to ask, exactly. Paul was just his best friend, and it seemed natural for him to talk about his doubts and confusions.

"I got pain medicine for Till and was thinking of giving it to him without him knowing."

Paul's chipper mood vanished, leaving a very concerned look in its wake.  
"Are you serious?"

Richard winced, and suddenly realized how awful that sounded.  
"Yes, but he is just in so much pain, and refuses to take anything for it. I just thought--"

"Did you think there might be a reason for that?" Paul asked, a bit sternly.

"Of course I did," Richard said, feeling indignant. "We've talked about it a lot. He claims he needs pain to--"

"No, I don't mean the pain; I mean the medicine."

"Yes, I asked about that as well. He just said he prefers not to take it. That's why I figured he just needed help with it."

Paul frowned at him, and Richard felt shamed. Paul was rarely upset, and even more rarely disappointed. It seemed as though he were both, now.  
"Richard, Till has low blood pressure. One of the side effects of a lot of prescription pain medication is lowered blood pressure. A long time ago he took something for his knee, you remember when it was bad? He took some pain medicine, and then passed out about an hour later when he was alone in his hotel room, just because he'd stood up too quickly. He landed on a table. If he'd hit the floor headfirst, or a corner of the table or whatever else, he could have died and not been found until the next day.

Richard felt color draining from his face at the morbid realization. 

Paul saw his point had been made very clearly. 

"Why didn't he say anything?" Richard asked very quietly. 

Paul shrugged. "Till's got some pride. Maybe he thinks his image is better by saying he loves all pain, rather than admitting he can't take medicine that he might actually want for it."

"I didn't know."

"I know you didn't. He seems to want to be a certain person to you: someone strong and capable and manly. Admitting he has trouble handling pain, compounded with the fact that he literally can't take medicine for it is doubly hard. I'm not really suprised he didn't tell you. That said, I think you *should* tell him you got the medicine. Maybe then he'll realize you two need to talk more."

Richard trembled a bit at the thought. "I don't know if he'd accept me if I told him."

Paul patted Richard's shoulder as he squatted down next to him on the floor.  
"I don't think he would stay mad for long. Just tell him you bought it because you were concerned, then give it to him. He can decide then if he wants to tell you more or not. But don't be upset if he doesn't."

Paul winked at him. "I think he really fancies you. He doesn't give a shit what the rest of us think of him, except maybe for Flake. You're very special to him. He won't let you go that easily."

Paul's nose suddenly wrinkled. "Is that a bite mark on your neck?"

Richard scooted away and ducked his head hurriedly. Paul guffawed and slapped his leg as Richard blushed.  
"Well, I'm glad you two are having fun at least. Now go and give him the medicine so I can finish packing in peace. I'll put the rest of your clothes in your trunk." 

He ruffled Richard's hair fondly and Richard batted away the hand.  
"All right. But if it goes south, you're stuck rooming with me whether you like my snoring or not."

"I've managed so far, somehow."

Richard rolled his eyes, but then said sincerely, "Thank you, Paul. I really do appreciate your advice. And, thanks for not letting me make a big mistake like that."

Paul nodded with a smile. "Be nice if I didn't have to catch it in the first place, but you know I always will if the need comes up, especially for you." He gave Richard a hug and patted his back as Richard stood to leave.

Richard was smiling a bit as he made his way to Till's room. He was truly lucky to have such good friends.


	25. Recollections of Past Pain, and Lack Thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard comes clean to Till about secretly buying him pain medication.

Richard quietly entered Till's room again, not at all surprised to see Oli had finished packing and taken his trunk out already. Richard had stopped off in the kitchen and grabbed the medication first, readying himself for the upcoming conversation.

The room was quite bare without their clothes-- mostly Till's-- laying scattered across the floor and dressers. Till was still sleeping, his casted hand perched atop a pillow. Richard gazed at him fondly as he slept. Till looked like the picture of contentment and peace when he was asleep. The hard lines around his eyes eased, his forehead smoothed, his lips parted slightly, and he seemed so *calm.*

Richard really didn't want to wake him, but knew if Till kept sleeping, he'd throw off his sleep schedule before they traveled, and Till hated being overly jet-lagged. Plus, if he waited, Richard might lose his nerve in telling him about the medicine.

He walked gently over to the bed and placed a soft kiss against Till's lips. It was a beautiful thing to feel him wake up as he kissed him. He felt him inhale more deeply, felt his mouth move a little under his lips, then watched as his eyes slowly opened to hazily focus on him.

"Guten morgen," Richard greeted quietly.

Till grunted and shifted a bit under the blanket before rumbling a throaty, "Guten morgen," back at him.

He cleared his throat and stretched a bit, wincing as he moved his arm. 

"Does it hurt?" Richard asked softly.

Till shrugged, his eyes still mostly closed. "Not more than before."

Richard was a little suprised to hear him say that, having expected the usual response of "I'm fine."

"Can I help somehow?" Richard asked.

Till gently shook his head. "Thank you, though."

Richard took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then held up the bottle of medicine.

"I went out this morning and got you some pain medicine. I know you said you didn't want it, but the doctor told me to call if it got bad and he'd get some for you. This morning seemed like you were in so much pain, and I just really wanted to help. You can take it if you want, or not; I just wanted you to know it's there, just in case. If you don't want to take it, I understand and accept that."

Till sat up, a bit awkwardly as he tried to do so without bumping his bad hand.  
"I already said several times I didn't want any medication," Till said, his voice still a bit rough from sleep.

"I know," Richard admitted, lowering his eyes. "I just wanted to help, and I didn't know what else to do."

He held out the bottle to Till, who stared at it for a moment before taking it and inspecting the small print along the side of the bottle. 

"Well, it's nothing particularly strong," he mused. "But no, I'd still prefer not to take anything." He set the bottle on the bedside table.

Richard desperately wanted to press Till about it, hoping he would talk to him and explain why, but he didn't. Richard nodded, disappointed, but understanding.  
"That's fine, then. I accept that you don't want it."

Till raised an eyebrow. "You do, ah? You say it with such resignation. Is it really that difficult for you to see me not take it?"

Richard shrugged slightly. "It can be. I'm not particularly fond of seeing you in unnecessary pain."

Till looked thoughtful as he gazed at Richard for a moment.  
"Did I ever tell you about the time my knee was at its worst?"

Richard shook his head, pleasantly suprised at Till's decision to open up to him.

"It hurt all the time, all day and all night. I couldn't sleep. Booze and blow didn't help, not even when done together."  
He chuckled a bit. "It's a bad idea, by the way. Don't do them together."

"Hadn't planned on it, but I'll make a note to avoid it," Richard said with a smile.

"Well, it got to a point where I had to admit I needed something to just get me through the shows, at the very least, so I went to the doctor. He looked at it and told me he was surprised I was even walking around on it still. Said if I left it alone, eventually the muscle would strengthen and get better. He gave me some heavy medication, I don't remember the name. When I took it after a show one night, I didn't feel it for about 20 minutes, so I guessed it wasn't working. I went back to my room to try and sleep, see if that helped. I remember laying down on the bed for just a minute or two, then heard Paul knocking on my door. I stood up to answer the door, and it was as if all the blood in my head was suddenly gone. I felt my body go numb, and just like in the movies, black just closed in my vision and I passed out. I woke up on the coffee table to Paul slapping my face."

"I don't remember that at all," Richard admitted.

Till grunted and said, "That's because I told Paul not to tell anyone. It doesn't fit my "persona" to have to take painkillers, much less faint when I've taken them. Turns out I had low blood pressure and the medicine just made it worse."

He shrugged, then said, "That's why I don't take them at all anymore, even the light stuff. Not just because of the fainting, but that numb feeling-- I guess people call it a high but it didn't feel like a high to me. That was the most terrifying sensation, to feel nothing in your body, no pain at all. It was so foreign. I hated it. I don't want to feel like that ever again. Pain is a friend to me, even when that friend treats me poorly. I'd much rather bad pain than nothing at all."

Till took a deep breath after his small monologue and searched Richard's face for a reaction. Not finding one, he dropped his gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me this before, when I asked if I could help you?"

Till pursed his lips. "I don't know. I felt ashamed, but I don't know why. It's not something rational, I don't think."

Richard placed his hands on either side of Till's head and gently pulled his face up to look at him.  
"Thank you for telling me. It makes sense, and it makes me feel a lot better knowing you aren't just suffering needlessly, or because you're just stubborn." 

He kissed Till gently, then rested his forehead against Till's lovingly. They sat in contented silence for a few moments.

"Richard?" Till said, a bit breathy.

"Yes, Till?" Richard nuzzled against his forehead.

"I really need to take a piss."

Richard groaned and let go of his face as Till chuckled.

"You are a professional at ruining moods, Lindemann."

"I'll wear that title like a badge of honor," Till said, sweeping his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. He grinned at Richard, but the grin slowly faded as he noticed something. 

Richard gave him a quizzical look, which Till returned with narrowed eyes and an angry growl in his voice:

"What the hell is that on your neck?


	26. Love Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till confronts Richard about his "marks"

Richard swallowed nervously and tried to play dumb, desperately thinking of what to say.

"Uh, what?"

"This." Till reached out and held his neck firmly, poking him on the reddened bite mark. Richard flinched, the mark still very fresh and painful.

"Oh, well, Schneider and I went to get your medicine this morning while you were asleep, and you were still asleep when I got back, so, um…"

Richard couldn't think of anything else to say as he wilted under Till's hard stare. 

"He bit you?"

"Um, yeah, I guess so."

"Did you ask him to?"

"Well no, but--"

"Did he ask if he could?"

"Not really, no, but I--"

"Then why the hell did he fucking bite you?"  
Till's eyes were smoldering, and not in the pleasant way. 

"Look, Till," Richard tried to assuage him, "It just happened really quickly and we didn't really set down any rules or anything, so it just kind of, happened, I guess."

Till seemed to calm himself, but only the tiniest bit.  
"Did you like it?"

Richard felt uncomfortable answering, but did so anyway, knowing Till would demand it regardless.  
"Well, yes." He felt his voice crack a bit and he looked down shamefully.

Till stared at him for another long minute, then released his breath in a huff.  
"Fine, I guess. I suppose I didn't say anything beforehand either so you couldn't have known."

Richard was confused. "Couldn't have known what?"

Till looked closely at Richard's neck and got a disgusted look on his face.  
"I absolutely despise bite or suck marks where you can see them, even moreso if they're not mine."

He sighed, then said in a much less irritated voice, "I realize you had no idea, so I'm not mad. I am just irritated, and not at you. I know for a fact Schneider knows I hate those marks. He certainly knew better."

"It all happened very fast. Maybe he didn't think about it," Richard offered. 

Till made a hmph noise. "Or maybe he thought very hard about it. Did he bite anywhere else?"

Richard blushed and Till raised his pierced eyebrow at him. Richard hated when he did that.

"He bit my chest."

"May I see?"

Richard thought about telling him no, if only to keep Till from being irritated, but knew he'd see it eventually one way or the other. He unbuttoned his shirt just enough to show his upper chest, the bite mark nearly at the midpoint of his left pec. 

Till's lip twitched, and Richard saw a very brief flicker of anger in his eyes again, but it passed quickly. 

"Are you angry about it?" he asked, a twinge of worry coating his voice. 

Till sat back down on the bed heavily and ran a hand over his hair.  
"No. Just a bit irritated, is all."

"Can I ask why?" Richard ventured carefully. 

"You may, but I won't answer why."

It was Richard's turn to frown, but before he could open his mouth to protest Till's silence, Till spoke up again. 

"Do you feel like retelling to me in very specific detail the sex you and Schneider had?"

Richard shook his head emphatically.

"I thought not. How you feel about that is how I feel about telling you my dislike of those marks. Chalk it up to some bad sex I had that I don't feel like retelling, as you don't feel like talking about yours."

Till had a very solid point, Richard had to agree.  
"That makes sense," he admitted. 

"Good. Well, now that you know, would you be all right if I asked you to refrain from "receiving" those marks? You're free to say no, of course. It's your body; I don't own you. I just sincerely dislike them."

"No, of course not," Richard assured. "They don't matter to me either way. If they make you uncomfortable or you have that big of a problem with them, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Schneider knew better, so it shouldn't have happened in the first place," Till said in a very huffy voice. But his irritation quickly faded, and Till gave Richard a soft smile.  
"Thank you, Liebes. You didn't have to agree, but it means a lot that you did."

Till held his hands out for Richard, who took them and allowed himself to be pulled down into a deep kiss. 

Till pulled back and licked his lips for a moment, then gave Richard a suspicious look.

"Richard," he asked slowly, "why do you taste like cigarettes?"

Not a second of thought went by before Richard just said, "Schneider." He didn't really know what else to say.

Till simply rolled his eyes. "Would have been courteous of him to brush his teeth before fucking your mouth with his ashtray of a tongue."

Richard breathed an internal sigh of relief. He felt Till was angry enough with Schneider, and didn't think it wise to compound it by admitting he'd smoked under Schneider's encouragement. He would let this happenstance slide, and simply refrain from smoking at all in the future, regardless of what Schneider might say. 

"As I said, it happened very quickly," Richard said.

Till shrugged casually. "So long as you enjoyed yourself. Well, little scholle," he continued, still holding Richard's hands, "are you all packed and ready to go tomorrow? If not, you might want to get on it before Flake loses his mind. Moving seems to always make him so damned irritable."

Richard nodded. "I got the text too. And yes, I'm all packed. Paul was putting the last of our stuff up when I came to give you the medicine."

"Very good. Would you like to go to lunch with me, as a last goodbye to this town for awhile? We'll be ordering in tonight as usual."

It was a tradition for them all to eat one final meal together in their residence the night before moving on, usually chinese takeout.

"That sounds lovely, yes," Richard agreed.

Till released him and swatted at his backside playfully.  
"Go get your shoes and I'll get dressed then."

Richard smiled as he left the room, thankful beyond all thankfulness that he'd been lucky enough to find a man as wonderfully patient and understanding as Till.


	27. Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a lunch date, Richard and Till watch some football with Schneider.

Till and Richard had settled on Italian food for lunch. Richard had been excited about the inherent romantic feel of that kind of restaurant, and Till was simply excited to use his makeshift fork-holder again. 

Richard had watched in resigned amusement as Till carefully inserted the fork and began spearing the lettuce from his salad, and smiled warmly whenever Till looked up to meet his gaze.

"You look very silly when you're lovesick," Till quipped. 

"I don't care," Richard said dismissively. "I'm just really enjoying this."

"Watching me stab salad like a professional? It's absolutely riveting, I'm sure."

Richard rolled his eyes but didn't add to the playful banter. 

Till paused in the middle of his salad to give Richard a long once-over, then said, "Aren't you warm in that sweater?"

Richard had donned a long sleeved sweater with a sort of collar at the neck, one that looked a bit too heavy for the cozy Italian restaurant's atmosphere. 

Richard shrugged and said, "It was the only collared shirt I could find without unpacking everything again."

Till looked confused for a moment, then said, "Ah, I see. You didn't need to hide the mark, Rich."

"I know, but I wanted to."

At that, Richard saw one of Till's rarest facial expressions: his lips pressed together slightly, and the tiniest hint of a smile quirked at the corners of his mouth while his eyes shone. Till was both happy and flattered, and Richard loved seeing it. 

"Well, thank you for that. It means a lot that you'd go to that trouble for me."

"Don't mention it."

Once their main courses had arrived, Richard was pleasantly suprised to see Till remove the fork from the holding place in his cast, and then clumsily tried to use it to cut and eat his stuffed pasta. 

Richard's heart warmed at that. Seeing his partner doing something uncomfortable, just to please him as he had done with the sweater-- it made Till more attractive than any sexy pose or dirty talk could ever manage. He felt drawn to Till, heart, soul, and mind.

Till's hand slipped as he tried to halve one of the pieces of tortellini, and the red-sauced pasta slid from the fork and shot down directly into his lap. Till stared down at it for several seconds, then looked up at Richard who was doing his very best to bite his knuckles and not burst into laughter.

Till's eyes narrowed, playfully, and he slowly reached his hand down to grab the offending pasta. He brought it up to the table, but instead of placing it on his napkin, he looked around furtively to see if anyone else were looking at their table. Satisfied that they weren't, he popped the tortellini right into his mouth, giving Richard a smug grin. 

He might be willing to do *some* things to please Richard, his look seemed to say, but he reserved the right to be himself at any moment.

Richard laughed at that, prompting a chuckle from Till as well. They enjoyed the rest of their meal without incident, talking about everything under the sun and just appreciating the quality time with one another. 

\------------

The two spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the town, enjoying the milder weather change and stretching their legs before their trip the next day. They continued chatting happily, getting to know one another in a deeper way through light conversation and relaxed walking. Richard decided he couldn't have designed a more perfect day for them to spend together.

They got back to the flat in the late afternoon. They went inside still conversing pleasantly as they took off their shoes. Oli greeted them as he passed by to the door.

"I'm going out for a bit with my girlfriend, but I'll be back for dinner," he promised. 

"You had better," Flake's voice called from the living room. 

"Have fun," Till said, giving Oli an exaggerated wink. Oli turned a bit pink, but grinned back at him before leaving. 

The two walked into the living room, seeing Flake perched on the recliner with a book and Schneider on a beanbag chair next to the far end of the couch watching football on TV. They heard music coming from Paul's room, and assumed he was still packing.

Flake nodded to them as they walked into the living room and sat down on the couch together.  
"How was your day?" Flake queried.

"Lovely," Richard said happily and Till nodded. Flake seemed pleased at that.

Schneider looked up and gave them a wave. His eyes flicked up and down Richard briefly, then said, "That's a nice sweater, Richard."

Richard swallowed, and looked over at Till worriedly. 

Till had a genuine, unbothered smile on his face. He looked at Richard and linked his arm through Richard's, stroking the sleeve of the sweater.  
"It is, isn't it? It looks great on him." Till leaned down and kissed Richard lightly. 

Richard blushed, but felt honored at the public affection. A glance at Schneider showed him rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the TV.

Flake cleared his throat pointedly to get their attention.  
"You two are staying here for dinner, correct?"

"Yes, Flake," Till said, a bit patronizing. "You've made it overwhelmingly clear we're all to be here, just as we always do."

"Good. It wouldn't seem right to leave without a final meal in each of our short term houses."

"We're staying in tonight, don't worry," Richard assured. "I like our little traditions."

Flake nodded and went back to his book. 

Till pulled Richard's arm and directed him to the couch to sit. They flopped down, cozying up to one another as they watched the football game. Richard sat sideways on the couch, his back nearly perpendicular to Till's shoulder and his legs stretched out to the other end near Schneider's bean bag. Till laid his casted arm across the back of the couch carefully and got comfortable. They all liked watching sports now and again, though none were particularly passionate about it, except for Oli on certain occasions.

Richard felt a tickle on his foot and flinched. Till looked over, feeling him jerk, but was distracted by one of the teams scoring a goal. Richard assumed he must have imagined it, as there was nothing on his foot. He turned back to the game, but just as he'd settled in, he felt something brush across his foot again. 

He didn't jerk his foot away this time, but moved his head to look down at the end of the couch. Schneider, though he was still watching the game, had his hand laid back behind him against the couch, and was lazily brushing a finger against Richard's foot. Richard moved his foot slightly out of the way, careful not to jostle Till as he did so.

Schneider's hand stayed still for a moment, then gravitated back, this time slipping his fingers just under the cuff of Richard's pant leg, dragging his fingernails lightly against his skin. He was very surreptitious about it, and Richard noticed that Till wouldn't be able to see it from where he sat. 

The fingernails ran a little harder against his ankle, giving Richard goosebumps up his leg. He held back a shiver and tried to focus on the game. He didn't know whether Till would appreciate Schneider's teasing or not, considering their talk earlier this morning, so he wanted to play it safe and simply not acknowledge it. 

He looked over at Flake desperately, hoping he'd see and make a snide comment, but Flake was intently focused on his book. Richard wrestled internally as he felt Schneider's whole hand now sliding along his leg, his fingers tracing the nails across his skin. 

He couldn't hold the shiver back this time, and Till glanced down at him curiously.

"Sorry," he muttered. "It's a bit cold in here."

Till narrowed his eyes at him, noting his flushed face.  
"You feeling all right, Rich?" he asked suspiciously. 

Richard felt a hard scratch of Schneider's fingernails against him, making him flinch, and then his hand withdrew.

"Yes, fine," Richard said quickly.

"Hush. I'm trying to hear the game," Schneider chimed in. 

Richard felt indignant at that, and decided to take action. He reached a bit with his foot to where he could tap Schneider's shoulder, causing him to turn around. As soon as he had the man's attention, Richard turned and grabbed at Till's crotch with one hand, and with the other hand turned his head to aggressively kiss him.

Till grunted in suprise, but didn't pull away. He shifted his legs as Richard rubbed him, and Richard was very satisfied to feel him respond instantly. 

He pulled back from the kiss and paused his groping. Till looked at him inquisitively, to which Richard turned his head, looking pointedly at Schneider. Till followed his gaze, and then snorted as he saw Schneider, red-faced, turning back to the tv quickly. 

Till leaned to Richard's ear and whispered, to which Richard nodded after a moment. 

Till stood up and said in an overly loud voice, "Schneider, come with us. We have something to show you."

Flake looked up from his book at that, his eyes glancing at each of them briefly. Deciding he didn't care to get involved, he simply went back to reading. 

Richard stood up and nearly laughed at how conflicted Schneider looked. His face was reddened, and his eyes switched back and forth from intrigued to worried.

"Well?" Richard asked him, almost a challenge. Schneider met his gaze, and watched as Richard deftly moved his hand to rub his crotch ever so briefly. 

Schneider's eyes snapped back to the hungry, predatorial look Richard had become so infatuated with, and he stood up to follow them back to Till's room.

Richard didn't know exactly what Till had planned, but the little he'd been told put him on eager pins and needles.


	28. The Triad Attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till has invited Schneider to join him and Richard, but it doesn't go according to plan.

Till popped his head in Paul's room and asked him to turn up his music for awhile. With a wink, Paul obliged, and Till returned to his bedroom. Schneider was standing with his arms folded, leaning against the wall on his shoulder. Richard sat cross legged on the bed, his eyes bright and alert.

"Now that I've got you both together, I'd like to discuss some ground rules," Till began in an official sounding voice.

Schneider rolled his eyes and quipped sarcastically, "Yes *sir.*"

Till focused on Schneider with a wicked smile. "If you have problems with going over safety and consensual boundaries, we would be perfectly happy to tie you to the dresser and just let you watch instead."

Schneider blushed, but he stayed quiet. 

"Good. First order of business is safe words."

Schneider blanched at that. "What the hell are you going to be doing?" he asked suspiciously. "Why do we need safe words?"

"I haven't decided yet, but I don't feel comfortable doing anything at all without them."

Schneider sighed, but waved his hand for Till to continue. 

"Richard and I use "stop," in English. You're free to choose whatever you like, so long as you can remember it easily."

"I've used safe words before, thank you," Schneider bit back. "Stop" is fine."

"Excellent. Second, a few strong no's. No sounding, for me or Richard; no blood play unless we sit and detail it explicitly beforehand. You also must both ask before you make use of my toys, every time, and if they're not sanitized afterward, you'll never touch them again. Are we clear so far?"

Richard nodded, at rapt attention. Schneider laid his head back against the wall to stare at the ceiling, but gave a thumbs up.

"If this is boring you, Christoph, feel free to leave," Till offered. "I'm perfectly happy with Richard alone."

Schneider looked back down and raised his eyebrows. "No, do go on," he said coolly. "I would have left already if I didn't want to be here."

Till sighed at the man's snippy tone, but continued, having known the man long enough to recognize he was playing aloof to avoid feeling awkward.

"You already know the interactions I don't want from you. I also don't want visible marks, such as on the neck or arms, and I dont think Richard does either."  
Till looked over for confirmation, and Richard shook his head, agreeing with Till. He was curious what Till had meant when he mentioned "interactions," but didn't get the chance to ask.

Schneider chuckled and stared pointedly at Richard's neck, which he then rubbed self-consciously.

"Yes, I forgot you didn't like me giving those," Schneider purred in a condescending tone at Till. "Didn't realize Richard was also not a fan. My apologies. I'll avoid it in the future."

Till clenched his jaw, and Richard sat up straighter.

Schneider's eyes narrowed at the sudden silence; then widened as a stunned look crossed his face.  
"You didn't tell him?"

Till looked as though he'd like to strangle Schneider, while Richard just stared in confusion. 

"You didn't, did you? And how exactly is that fair, keeping secrets from your boyfriend?"

Till glowered, angry fire in his eyes, but he remained silent. 

"What does he mean?" Richard asked, reaching out to touch Till's elbow.

Till spoke, his words stiff and even, "That is a conversation for another time. Schneider, if you want to stay with us, I'd ask that you respect my desire not to talk about that right now."

Schneider's eyes flickered with mischief and he looked ready to argue with Till, but a movement caught his eye. Richard was slowly rubbing himself through his pants, giving a begging look to Schneider. Richard mouthed the word "please," and that did it. The fire was reignited in Schneider's eyes.

"All right," he said. "I won't bring it up."

Till, who'd apparently been prepared to throw Schneider out, literally, relaxed at the agreement. 

"Thank you, Christoph," he said, his voice becoming a bit gentler. 

Schneider inclined his head to Till, and then shot a lustful look at Richard, who swallowed thickly.

"And you?" Till asked, pointing his chin to Schneider. "Do you have any rules or stipulations?"

"I don't bottom," Schneider said huskily, not removing his eyes from Richard's face. 

Till looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then leaned down and kissed Richard, distracting Richard from Schneider's intense gaze. Till smiled as they kissed, then pulled back and looked at Schneider. 

He just stared impassively at Till. 

"Last thing," Till said. "We reserve the right to switch things up or even stop at any time, for any reason; especially if that reason involves excessive aggression, possession, or jealousy."

Till's jaw tightened again, and he leveled a serious glare at Schneider.  
"Are we clear, Cristoph?"

Though he didn't know the history between the two, Richard had a very strong suspicion Till's rules were based on past experiences.

Schneider met Till's gaze with an equally firm one.  
"Crystal," he said smoothly.

That seemed to settle Till, and he relaxed again.  
"Good."

He turned to Richard, smiled lovingly, then walked up and pressed him backward onto the bed. Richard's legs hung off the side of the bed, while Till's straddled either side of them. Till bent down, arms braced against the bed and kissed Richard deeply, allowing his hips to sink into Richard's as he made out with him hungrily.

Richard allowed himself to be swept up in the passion, and kissed Till back eagerly. He brought his hands up to the man's face and stroked along his stubbly cheeks, angling his head as he kissed him. His hands moved to Till's hair and he raked his fingers through the older man's dark hair. Till sighed happily, and Richard noted the pleasant reaction for the future. 

Just as he was about to deepen the kiss, Richard felt Till's kisses begin to migrate southward, down his neck to his sweater, which he removed dutifully. Richard looked up and saw Schneider standing nearby, his pants already tightened over his erection. He still had his arms folded, but they were much less tightly held now, and his eyes were everywhere over Richard and Till. This served to further arouse Richard, and he felt his cock throb at the attention. Till, who had a hand resting on Richard's crotch after he got the sweater off, grinned at the feeling of his arousal under his hand. He looked back at Schneider, who suddenly had a dark look in his eyes. 

Till motioned with his head for Schneider to come over to them. Schneider's slow, careful movement to the bed reminded Richard of a hungry hyena, waiting warily for the lions to finish eating before he jumped in. 

Richard watched him, still shivering as Till kissed and gently licked the exposed skin on his chest. Schneider's eyes trailed from Richard's body to Till's busy mouth, and Richard watched him swallow hard at the sight of Till catching one of Richard's nipples in his mouth. Richard moaned softly and put a hand on the back of Till's head as he lapped across his chest to the other nipple, giving equal attention on both sides. He ever so gently ran his teeth across it, making Richard squirm from the sensation. 

Schneider's breath caught as he watched Till's tongue flick across Richard's skin, moving lower down his abdomen and to his waist. Richard grunted at the sensation and pushed his hips up, and was distracted by Schneider climbing up on the bed next to Richard. He saw Schneider lean in carefully, eyeing Till with a wary look as he reached to cup the back of Richard's head and pull him in for a kiss. 

Richard leaned to the side, welcoming the kiss. He felt Till's tongue slide along his hip as they kissed, making him inhale deeply from the tickling feel of his mouth. Schneider pressed the kiss harder, gripping at the back of Richard's head more tightly, as he'd done earlier that morning. Richard stiffened at the memorable feel, and Till paused his working along Richard's waist to look up. He grunted approvingly as he saw Schneider's involvement. Schneider paused his kissing at the sound and looked down at Till. Richard saw an odd look pass between the two, but Till quickly resumed his earlier kissing, giving Richard shivers as he dipped below his waistline. Till tapped him, indicating he needed to slide up. Richard obliged, and Till pulled off his pants. 

Till huffed in appreciation at the sight of Richard's stiffness, already leaking from the heightened arousal. Schneider kissed intermittently across Richard's face, but his eyes kept flicking down to keep an eye on Till. 

The second Till stopped nuzzling around Richard's groin and began licking his shaft, both Richard and Schneider took in a sharp breath. Schneider's grip tightened very hard on the back of Richard's neck, prompting him to release a short whine and lean away from the grasp. 

Till's eyes shot up and he narrowed them at Schneider.  
"Gently," he growled at the other man, who eased his hold at the command but didn't respond otherwise.

Till nodded and resumed his licking and kissing, earning heated moans from Richard. Schneider's hold tightened again and his nails dug into Richard's neck, but Richard didn't feel it this time. Till had slipped him into his mouth and was gently bobbing along his length. Richard flexed his hips up breathlessly, and he stole a glance at Schneider, who'd briefly paused his kissing across Richard's face. 

He noted that Schneider's eyes were dead set on Till, following his every back and forth movement with rapt attention. Schneider begin to palm himself over his pants as well, grinding into his own hand, and slowly getting back to pressing heavy kisses along Richard's jaw.

When Till pulled Richard into his throat, Richard gasped.  
Schneider had kissed his ear, and then bit down hard along the earlobe as Till had deepthroated Richard. 

Richard yelped and flinched away from the pain, prompting Till to once again stop what he was doing to address Schneider.

"I'm not going to tell you again," he warned, a note of anger rising in his voice. "Go easy."

Schneider had an odd combination of expressions on his face: heightened arousal, and what seemed to Richard like pain.

"I don't think I can," Schneider finally spoke up, his voice husky and thick. "Can I just watch?"

Till debated that for a minute, weighing something in his mind. He sighed, seemingly disappointed, but nodded.  
"Sit over there," he directed, pointing to the far corner of the bed. 

Schneider did so, removing his pants as he climbed back onto the bed. He sat back against the top of the bed, his legs folded underneath himself, and began slowly stroking as he watched Till resume going down on Richard. 

Though he was confused by Schneider's request, Richard loved to be watched, and his arousal climbed quickly. Till's talented mouth soon had him squirming and pressing his hips up to meet the back of Till's throat.

His gasps caught in his throat, and he was only barely aware of Schneider pumping at himself out of the corner of his eye.

"Till, fuck," he managed between panting breaths. "I'm close."

Till redoubled his efforts, pushing Richard as deeply into his throat with each movement as he could. Richard thrust into him, losing himself to his impending orgasm. He hit the climax hard, his eyes closing as his hips stuttered, then flexed with each spurt into Till's mouth. Till swallowed on him, giving little shocks of pleasure each time and causing Richard to jerk his body along with it. 

He finished with a long, drawn out moan, and Till let him slip from his mouth. He swallowed a final time, then moved up Richard's body to kiss him passionately. Richard enjoyed the taste of himself on Till's mouth, and he returned the kiss breathlessly. He smiled when Till pulled away, and Till smiled back. 

They both turned to Schneider, who'd been dead silent the entire time. He sat, looking both heated and very uncomfortable with his dick still in hand but motionless. He hadn't finished, it looked like.

His eyes were trained on Till, and he had a pained look on his face. Till's earlier smile faded, and he looked at Schneider with disappointment.

"Please?" Schneider whispered, his desperate voice barely audible as he begged for something that Richard couldn't determine. 

Till looked positively torn, and his eyes flitted from Richard to Schneider.

"No," Till finally said, and Richard heard an equal amount of regret and finality in his voice.  
"I think you should go."

Richard was confused, and didn't like the suddenly tense feeling in the room.

Schneider hung his head as he slid from the bed and pulled his pants back on. He left the room without a word, not even glancing back before closing the door behind him. 

Till sighed deeply and sat back on his heels after Schneider left. He rubbed his face with a hand, then looked back at Richard. 

"I'm sorry, scholle," he apologized, climbing up in the bed next to him.  
"I was hoping that would turn out differently."

"Tell me what happened," Richard said, pulling Till's forlorn body to his own, cradling him in his arms comfortingly.  
He sensed the conversation to follow wouldn't be a pleasant one.


	29. Past Addictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till reveals his rather stormy history with Schneider

Richard played with Till's hair as the big man's head rested on Richard's chest. Till seemed particularly morose, and though Richard had an absolutely burning desire to interrogate him about what had just happened, he refrained. 

Till pulled in a very deep breath before releasing it.   
"Schneider and I tried to have a very casual relationship a long time ago," Till started, a weariness in his voice at recalling the memories. "It was just sex, and it was fantastic, for a very short time."

Till paused his story to look up at Richard's face. It was his turn to see whether Richard were upset or not at this revelation.

Richard simply kissed his forehead and nodded at him to continue, still stroking at his hair.

"It quickly devolved," Till explained. "It stopped being for fun, and became more of a compulsion. I don't know if you felt it or not with him, but anytime I was with him, I lost myself. I became mindless, doing and receiving things I didn't really even like, just because I got swept up in the aggression. Schneider fucks like an animal, with next to no depth or emotion. Sometimes that's fun, but if it becomes a regular thing, it changes you. At least it did me."

Till pressed his head slightly harder against Richard's chest. Richard lowered his hand to stroke gently across Till's rough cheek.

"I didn't like who I became with him," he said quietly. "I was animalistic, uncaring, emotionless. It was like--" Till struggled to find the right words.   
"It was a fight for dominance each time we had sex, and I always lost. Sometimes it was a physical fight, sometimes mental, but I lost each time. It wore on me, and started leaking into the rest of my life, rather than just staying in the bedroom. I hated it."

"So you ended it?" Richard asked gently.

Till nodded. "He was upset. He had no idea I'd not been fully enjoying myself. I wasn't especially good at communicating then either. If I thought he'd seen it as more than fucking, I would say I broke his heart; but I legitimately don't think it was."

Till looked up at Richard again, his eyes sad.  
"When you told me he'd gone after you, I sort of hoped he'd changed. Once I saw the marks, I strongly suspected he hadn't, but you're not me. You may enjoy the type of sex he offers. I just wanted to be sure he wasn't hurting you; that's why I suggested the threesome. I wanted to give him an opportunity to show me he could control himself."

At that, Till reddened ever so slightly, which Richard found adorable.

Richard asked, "You still want to have sex with him, don't you?"

"Yes. That's why I was watching him, and why he watched me. He knew he wasn't supposed to do anything with me unless I explicitly told him otherwise. I'd hoped us three being together would help calm him down, and maybe open the door for us three to enjoy one another. But I really don't know if anything has changed with him."

"So when he said please?"

"He was asking if he could touch me."

Richard nodded, all of Schneider's seemingly bizarre actions over the past few days slowly starting to make sense. 

He'd been drawn to Richard, but not just him. He saw the different interest in him once it became clear Richard and Till were not just together, but happily together. The subtle looks, flirting and touching while Till was unaware; even the marks Schneider left had been messages, he realized-- a love letter in the only language Schneider seemed to know how to communicate in. Though they provoked Till, it was a desperate cry for attention from Schneider, like a child throwing a fit to pull his parent's attention back to him. It was terribly juvenile, but if what Till said was true, Schneider may not know *how* to communicate in a mature, healthy way at all. 

He'd wanted them to get together, probably wishing them well, sincerely, but seeing them have a healthy, diverse romantic as well as sexual relationship had frustrated him.

It occurred to Richard that he should feel angry, especially as he had been used as a means to convey a jealous message, but he honestly felt more saddened than anything. Schneider wasn't a bad person. He deserved to feel wanted and loved and fulfilled just as much as any of them. Plus, Richard had to admit, he really had enjoyed the sex. The aggression didn't bother him, likely because he didn't feel the need to be in control with him.

"Why did you always fight each other for dominance?" Richard asked. 

"I think because I didn't realize I'm a switch. I need to both control as well as be controlled. With Schneider, there was only the one, as he's the absolute furthest thing from a bottom I have ever seen. 

Richard saw Till's face flush as he admitted, "I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the fights."

"What exactly do you mean by fights? If you don't mind my asking."

Till shrugged and said, "I don't mind talking about it. It was generally a lot of very forceful wrestling. Even though I knew I'd end up on the bottom, it was still thrilling to get out my aggression like that. We never threw punches or fought to hurt one another severely, but my dislike of visible marks came from those fights. When he "won," he'd leave a mark. It got to a point where Flake had to ask if I were okay because of how bruised and torn up my neck had gotten.

Richard made a noise of recognition. "I vaguely remember that. Paul and I thought you'd just been seeing an especially aggressive hooker and didn't think much of it."

"Well, Flake knew better, thankfully. He made me sit down and talk through how I felt about it all, how it was self destructive and an addiction by that point. That was also right about the time I was at my worst with the coke, too."

"That part I definitely remember," Richard noted. "That was a bad time."

"Yes. It all somewhat compounded, I guess."

Richard became thoughtful for a moment. His first realization-- that he wasn't jealous at all, or bothered that Schneider seemed to prefer Till-- suprised him. He would have to reflect on that later, he decided, because he had a more pressing thought. 

"Do you think you'd feel differently now, considering you have a stable partner? You and I switch depending on our moods, so you certainly have your ability to control all settled."

That gave Till pause. "I hadn't considered that," he admitted. "I was focused on seeing whether Schneider could be gentle with you."

"Just for the record, I really enjoyed his roughness," Richard clarified. "I saw what you were talking about: the mindless aspect of the sex, but it was nice to me. I didn't feel lost or different. Just so you aren't worrying."

Till smiled at that. It was clear he wanted Richard's happiness above all else, even his own personal preferences, and if Richard enjoyed the sex, Till was happy for him.

Richard suddenly felt an overwhelming need to feel equally as happy for Till.

"What would you think if you two tried again?" Richard asked. "I could be there if you like. I'd enjoy seeing it, if that's something you wouldn't mind. Maybe now that you have me, you might feel more free to enjoy him as well."

Till sat up finally from his place on Richard's chest and studied his face.  
"You don't feel jealous at all?"

Richard shook his head. "It would be very strange if I did, considering he and I have already had sex."

"That is true. You say you'd like to watch?"

Richard felt his ears get warm as he nodded. "It sounds very fun to see."

Till grinned. "I didn't realize I had a little exhibitionist *and* a voyeur for a partner."

Richard rolled his eyes and said, "Not all the time. Just under very certain circumstances."

Till wrapped him in a hug and placed a loud kiss against Richard's temple.  
"You just never stop with the surprises, do you?"

A coy shrug from Richard made him laugh. 

"Well, let me go talk to Schneider and see how he feels. I may have bruised his pride too much to even suggest anything further."

"He seems as though he'd bounce back fairly quickly," Richard mused.

"That is quite true."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Richard offered as Till stood up from the bed.

"I think I can handle it this time. Thank you, Rich." With a quick parting kiss, Till went to Schneider's room.


	30. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till goes to Schneider, both to apologize and propose a way to make up.

Till knocked on Schneider's door as he called, "Hey, Doom?"

"Fuck off," he heard in response. 

Till sighed, then said through the door, "Please let me in. I need to apologize."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Then I'll stand here and yell through the door."  
Till raised his voice to an obnoxious volume, "I just don't think Flake and Paul particularly care to hear the details about your sexual--"

Schneider flung open the door and yanked Till inside, his face bright red.  
"I absolutely hate when you do that," Schneider muttered as he closed the door, stalking back over to his half-packed luggage trunk.

Till wanted to smile, but knew it would be very insensitive of him right now. 

"Go ahead, hurry up and say sorry or whatever the fuck you want to do," Schneider said, waving his hand dismissively and keeping his eyes down on his luggage. "Get it over with so I can finish packing and you can leave."

Till held his irritation at the man in check, knowing he was both embarrassed and hurt and was lashing out to hide his pain.  
"I'm sorry I sent you away, Christoph."

Schneider didn't look up. "Is that it? Will you leave me alone now?"

"No. I'm sorry I put you on the spot like that. I didn't think it through. Well, I did think it through, but the thinking came from my dick and not my brain like it should have."

Till heard Schneider snort derisively.  
"You do have a problem with that, yes."

"And you don't?"  
The snide comment slipped out before Till could stop it, and he regretted it immediately. 

Schneider turned his head to glare at Till from under his curls.  
"For the record, I was perfectly fine not being part of your two's love life. In fact, I was more than fine with it. I actually like Richard. I find him quite attractive, in fact. I'd have been perfectly happy just having fun with him now and then and leaving it at that. But no, you had to have the bright idea of dragging me into a threesome and then changing your mind halfway through and kicking me to the curb."

Schneider stood up and pointed a finger at Till accusingly, "I'll have you know, Richard *enjoyed* when I was rough. In fact, I'd say he loved it. But your determination to be in charge is overbearing to him, so he just goes along with your "rules" and insisting I not be rough with him."

Till was keeping his face neutral as Schneider took a few steps toward him, his anger growing as he did so.

"And while we're on *that* topic, how about you tell me what's so fair about you being able to hide our past together from him, but then turning around and getting pissy at me for biting your boyfriend's neck?"

"You know it wasn't just the biting I had a problem with," Till said, his voice low and calm.

"Oh, I know good and well what your problems were, but those aren't important. Your real problem is you think you can fuck around with people, anyone you wish, whenever you wish, and everything will automatically end up fine. You don't stop to think that maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't get to fuck whoever you want and then move on."

Schneider was slightly out of breath from his small rant, and he stood waiting for Till's response.

"I know, I shouldn't, and I'm sorry I jumped into that without thinking. It just seemed like a fun idea, since you'd already been with Richard and since we already had a history. It seemed like an okay step."

"That's not--" Schneider started to say something, then appeared to change his mind mid-thought. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.  
"It's fine," he said finally, and Till could tell he'd forcefully pushed down his anger and capped it with a well-practiced aloofness.

"I truly am sorry, Schneider."

"I know." Schneider seemed to have calmed himself, whether from resignation or simply forcing himself to relax, Till didn't know. Either way, the sudden lack of emotion made him feel unpleasant, and he got very antsy when he felt unpleasant.

"I understand this is probably a very inappropriate time to bring this up," Till blurted out, breaking the awkward silence.

Schneider narrowed his eyes suspiciously but didn't say anything. Till took that as permission to continue.  
"I still want you, Doom."

He saw Schneider blanch at that admittance.

"I said no to you earlier because I was afraid of what saying yes would mean. I hadn't talked to Richard about our past, I hadn't reflected on what I wanted from you, and I needed to come to terms with some things before I could consider doing anything with you again."

Schneider was listening intently, his crossed arms loosening as Till spoke. Till assumed he was saying the right things, and felt encouraged that Schneider hadn't cut him off.  
"If you still want me-- and believe me, I understand and won't feel offended if you don't-- then I'd like to try again."

Till watched as a series of emotions, not all of which he could identify, flickered across his friend's face. He wished he had Richard's gift for recognizing what others were feeling. He felt so awkward when emotions got involved. 

Hopefully, Till thought, this could simply end in some fun for the three of them.

Schneider eyed him, looking Till up and down for a long moment. When Schneider's eyes returned to his, Till felt his heart beating excitedly as he saw the familiar fire back in them. 

"I see." Schneider said simply, but Till could hear the change in his voice. He felt arousal simply on muscle memory from it: the deeper, more rough and quiet tone that Schneider got when he was ready to fuck.

Till had to close his eyes and will himself not to get an erection yet, or he'd end up grabbing and pushing Schneider down onto the floor right then and there.

"There's one caveat," Till said, a bit hesitantly.

Schneider's heavy look remained, but his tone lightened a bit in wariness.  
"And what's that?"

"Richard wants to watch."

"Will he just be watching?"

"Yes."

Till watched Schneider release a heavy breath, and knew without him saying a word that he would do it. While he couldn't read or decipher emotional responses very well, by god Till knew what a face that was ready to fuck looked like.  
He held a hand out to Schneider.  
"Come on. Let's do it in my room."


	31. Building on Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till and Schneider put an end to their tension, and the band has their final meal before the move.

Richard jumped a bit, startled as Till hurriedly came back into the room. Schneider followed closely behind him, and Richard could tell by their faces the talk had been a productive one. 

Richard was awed by the look of ravenous lust in Till's eyes. It was lacking the softness he'd seen whenever Till had sex with him, but it was impressive in its intensity. 

Till's hungry look was still outmatched by Schneider's. Richard thought he'd seen the extent of the man's smouldering gaze, but it was clear he'd only seen the tiniest sparks. Whether it was from their history or simply built up sexual tension, Schneider had an outright inferno of desire in his eyes.

Till quickly went over to Richard and kissed him breathlessly. Richard smiled at how excited he seemed to be.

"You still want to watch?" Till asked, his voice husky and a bit distracted. 

Richard nodded, pointing to the chair off in the corner.  
"I'll just sit there, if that's ok. I don't want to be in the way."

"Yes, that's fine." Till was busy looking over his shoulder at Schneider, who pierced him with a look as he started unbuttoning his shirt.

Richard gave Till a little shove as he smiled at his partner's distraction.  
"Go on, stud. Go have fun."

Till looked down at Richard once more, as if to ask for a final permission. Richard gave him a quick peck on his lips, then walked over to the chair off in the corner.

Till needed no further prompting.

Richard watched in fascination as the two stalked up to one another, neither making a move at first. They sized one another up visually, Schneider taking particular note of Till's cast as Till clenched his good hand. Richard saw his bicep flex powerfully as he made a fist and released it. Schneider also saw it, his eyes flicking back and forth from Till's body to his face. 

It had been a long time since they were together, Richard thought. Till had gained a lot of weight and muscle since then, while Schneider had stayed relatively the same size. Perhaps that fact was giving Schneider some pause, indicating he might not have the upper hand anymore. 

Richard blinked, and suddenly the two were on each other, tearing at one another's clothes and grabbing at every bit of skin they could find. Till leaned in to give a harsh kiss first, and Schneider ran his hand up to Till's hair and tangled his hand in it tightly. Till groaned, and then used his good hand to grab around and under Schneider's shoulder. He yanked, pulling the thinner man slightly to the side and exposing his neck. Till pounced, latching onto Schneider's throat with his teeth. 

The noise Schneider made at the bite caused blood to dump down to Richard's crotch immediately. Until this point, he'd simply been watching out of curiosity and fascination. Now, he was enjoying it.

Till growled as he readjusted his grip and bit again, harder. Schneider brought his chin down sharply, hitting Till's cheek and forcing him to let go. Richard saw a spattering of blood across Till's lips and Schneider's neck, which somehow served to excite Richard even more. He slowly began fondling himself over his pants, enraptured at the show before him. 

Schneider wasted no time after freeing himself from Till's bite. He leaped forward, knocking Till off balance and pushing him hard back onto the bed. Till was big, but Schneider was quick. He was up on top of Till almost faster than Richard could follow, pinning the man's arms to the bed with his knees. Richard saw with some relief that Schneider seemed to be careful to avoid Till's cast with his legs.

Till snarled and tried to buck his hips and twist away from the pin, but Schneider rode him like a bull, keeping his knees pinned down firmly on Till's upper arms. Till paused to gulp in a breath, then headbutted Schneider directly on the man's breastbone. Schneider cried out in pain and sat back, freeing Till's arms. Till kept his casted arm back, but used his good arm to grab a fistful of Schneider's unbuttoned shirt and yanked him to the side. The thinner man was flung easily, hitting the bed with his shoulder and flipping onto his back as Till forced him to switch positions.

Till now straddled Schneider, his hips pressing down firmly and forcefully pushing him down into the bed. Schneider tried to twist his hips away, but Till was heavy and knew how to use it to his full advantage. He leaned down, pressing himself onto Schneider who grunted at the weight and grimaced. Till grabbed his jaw and forced a rough kiss down onto him, and Richard watched with lustful eyes as he started grinding his hips down against Schneider as well.

Schneider let loose a long, drawn out groan into Till's savage kisses and pressed his own hips up to meet Till's, hungry for the friction between them. Till rumbled, a sound Richard knew well. The noise made Richard moan softly as well as he continued to rub himself. He was impressed at how aroused he was getting just from watching the two go after each other so savagely. 

Till suddenly yelped and leaned back, and Schneider slipped out from under Till's body like lightning. Schneider now had blood on his lips as well, and Richard realized he'd bitten Till's lip. Till wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and tried to grab at Schneider, but the other man was too quick. He slipped off the bed and yanked his shirt off, his chest heaving from the gasps of air he sucked in. Richard admired the man's build: his toned chest, slight indentations down his abdomen that detailed his abs, the sharp V-shape that led suggestively down into his jeans. The man was beautiful.

Richard watched as Till hungrily eyed him as well, dragging his gaze first slowly down and then back up. Schneider seemed to revel in the attention, and he cockily stalked back up to Till, who stiffened in anticipation. Schneider reached his hands out slowly, and Richard was somewhat surprised to see him take hold of the bottom of Till's shirt. Till seemed surprised as well, but allowed Schneider to pull it off of him and toss it aside.

It was Schneider's turn to rake his eyes across Till's broad-shouldered body, appreciating the thickness of the man's barrel chest, the hair that trailed across and down to his pants' line, even the scars on his abdomen and shoulders were things to be admired and lusted after. 

Richard let slip a sharp moan as he continued to palm himself. Both Till and Schneider looked over at him at the same time and grinned wickedly at his arousal. Richard blushed, but didn't stop rubbing himself. In fact, he made a show of unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down, grunting as his cock slipped free and thumped against his abdomen. 

Till abruptly made a sort of whining noise in his throat as he stared at Richard, who moaned quietly in response, beginning to stroke his dick in earnest. 

Schneider suddenly sprang on Till, taking him by surprise as Schneider yanked at Till's pants and pulled them down faster than Richard could even see. Till's erection bobbed free, precum already leaking obscenely from it. Schneider seemed to come unglued at the sight of it, a groan falling from his mouth as he yanked his own pants off hurriedly. Till kicked his pants aside and closed the distance between he and Schneider, who was now standing naked and facing Till. 

Richard grunted suddenly and bit his tongue hard, trying to keep his orgasm at bay as he slowed his movements and thought of as many un-sexy things as he could. He calmed himself a bit and pulled back from the edge. He continued to masturbate, but much more deliberately and slowly. He wanted to last as long as he could, as he was thoroughly enjoying watching.

Till was now a hairs breadth from Schneider, both of them breathing heavily from the back and forth. Schneider met Till's eyes head on, and Richard suddenly saw something different in Schneider's gaze. His hardened, challenging gaze softened a small amount, and the stiffened muscles along his trembling arms relaxed ever so slightly. 

Till seemed not to have noticed from his vantage point, as he reached forward and grabbed around Schneider's shoulder's with his good arm. Schneider struggled a bit, but Richard could see plainly he wasn't fighting as desperately before. Till pressed his advantage, flipping Schneider around and bending him over the bed roughly. Schneider gasped as Till rammed his legs up against the backs of Schneiders and bent down, pinning him in place. Richard again saw him struggle, but as Schneider's face was pressed against the bed with Till's elbow, Richard had a clear view of his expression. 

Richard was stunned to see an elation in Schneider's eyes. The man's gaze was fixed up on Till's face as Till grunted and pressed his weight onto him. For a moment, Till seemed shocked he'd managed to pin Schneider. He leaned down and growled something in Schneider's ear. Richard watched in quiet amazement as relief-- no, this was more like bliss-- covered Schneider's face as he nodded in response to whatever Till had said. Till switched positions of his arms, moving his casted forearm to brace down against the back of Schneider's neck and his other to stroke himself for a moment. He bent his head and spit down into his hand, rubbing the tip of his dick briefly before drawing back and then pushing his hips roughly toward Schneider.

Schneider gasped sharply, and Richard could tell just by the man's expression that Till had already pressed inside him. Till grunted in satisfaction, then drew back and jerked his hips forward again, harder this time. Schneider cried out and gripped the blanket beneath him, but Till didn't stop. Richard knew Schneider didn't want him to. Richard allowed his strokes along his throbbing member to quicken, bringing his orgasm swiftly up to him. He rode it out quietly, but enjoying every second of it as he watched and listened to the pair's moans and grunts across the room. He still felt intense pleasure when he'd finished, and after taking a moment to breathe, he continued to lazily stroke his softened cock. He wouldn't cum again, but it still felt wonderful and he didn't want to waste the show he was getting. 

His post-orgasmic brain was a bit foggy, but Richard was still struck by how different Schneider seemed now. With Richard, and with how Till said he'd been with him in the past, Schneider was a loose cannon; he had no control and lost himself in the sex, roughly fucking and following animalistic urges and nothing else. But with Till now on top-- which was another oddity in and of itself, as both Till and Schneider had emphasized how he would never botton-- it looked as though Schneider had become someone else. He was present, it seemed, enraptured by the feelings and closeness, perhaps. Whatever had brought it on, it had become a night and day difference to see.

Till was slamming himself into Schneider at this point, heaving and grunting rhythmically as he thrust himself as deep as possible. He wasn't taking care where he hit inside the man, he was simply rutting away as an animal would, and Schneider seemed to be in heaven. His cries in time with Till's jerking hips suddenly peaked, and his hands grabbed wildly at the blankets around him. He twisted his body and spasmed, his breath coming in stifled gasps. Till reached forward and grabbed him by the throat for leverage, then slammed himself into Schneider even harder and faster than before. Schneider's eyes had rolled back and he was biting his lip hard, his stuttering movements calming as he came down from his apparent orgasm. 

Till bellowed out a throaty yell, moving his hand up to Schneider's jaw and pulling, yanking Schneider's head back and to the side. Till gave four more slow but incredibly hard thrusts as he gritted his teeth in what Richard recognized as his orgasm. He thrust forward harshly and stayed, panting as he emptied himself inside Schneider. Richard saw Schneider remained quiet as he allowed himself to be used for Till's breeding pleasure.

After a very long minute, Till released a heavy breath and moved his hips back slightly, allowing himself to slip out of Schneider. That pulled a moan from the formerly quiet man, and Till admired the mess leaking from his backside. He gripped a handful of Schneider's ass appreciatively, but was surprised when Schneider rolled over and pulled Till down to him, kissing him deeply. 

Richard felt his heart go suddenly cold as he watched the two. Schneider put a hand up to Till's cheek, sliding along it and back up into Till's hair. Till was breathless and a bit dazed as Schneider kissed him. 

When Till pulled back, Richard was shown what he had feared in Schneider's eyes, though Till seemed utterly oblivious to it as he smiled and began cleaning himself up.

Schneider looked up at Till with adoration, Richard saw. Adoration and love.

\----------------

The cold dread sat heavily in Richard's stomach the rest of the evening: all through the post-sex cleanup and chatting, through the arguments amongst all six of them over what food to order, through the hungry waiting as Flake impatiently watched the clock for their delivery, and finally through the dinner as they all shared their final meal in the flat.

Oli had been coaxed into giving more details about his girlfriend, much to the table's delight. Flake talked about his books that he was writing, though the table seemed far more interested in chatting about their upcoming tour costumes and rigging. Flake allowed the topic change graciously, as he was simply happy they were all together observing arguably one of his most favorite traditions. Till spent the meal with his good arm around Richard and his casted arm holding his now trademarked silverware. 

Till had smothered Richard with affection and attention after Schneider had left their room, ensuring he felt included and comfortable. Richard had put on a happy face, not wanting to spoil the evening for Till, and reassured him that he'd enjoyed himself thoroughly.

Till was legitimately happy, Richard saw, and was relieved that he'd been his normal self after the sex. He'd even asked Richard if he thought he'd gone too far or done too much, but Richard assured him he hadn't. 

If only Richard could feel relieved as well.

He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Schneider felt more for Till than sexual attraction. The way he'd allowed himself to be overtaken and topped, the resistance that had dropped after a certain point, and the absolutely infatuated look he'd had afterward all screamed that Schneider was in love with Till. Whether it had been a more recent development or something that had persisted throughout the years, Richard didn't know, but it was clear as day. He was only mildly suprised Till couldn't see it; the man was as airheaded as they come when sex was involved. It was entirely possible Schneider had been just as in love with him so many years before and Till had simply not seen it. Schneider wasn't exactly prolific in his communication either, Richard noted, so it was likely a fault on both sides. 

Regardless, it was there, and Richard had no idea what to do.

Schneider tapped the side of his wine glass with his fork suddenly, gathering the attention of the table. 

"Thank you all for coming," he began, earning him chuckles from around the table.  
"I just wanted to take a minute and tell you all how incredibly thankful I am to have fallen into this group of friends and band mates. You've all been here through the bad and the good, always ensuring we all come through them together and united. So for that, I wanted to say thank you."

He raised his glass and everyone followed suit, cheering as they sipped their wine. 

"I also wanted to tell you that I'm actually flying out early tonight instead of with you all tomorrow."

Flake looked about to protest but Schneider held up a hand.  
"I know, I'm sorry, Flake, but I made sure I would still be here for dinner. I'm going to be flying out early because I'm meeting a special lady out there, and wanted to spend a few days with her before our tour schedule becomes chaotic. Not to detract from Oli's spotlight, but I couldn't let him have all the fun with the only girlfriend among us."

Cheers erupted across the table at that. Oli clapped, Paul slapped Schneider across the back as Flake nodded in approval. Till seemed a bit suprised, but enthusiastically congratulated Schneider on the relationship. Richard seemed to be the only one not cheering him on. 

He felt horribly confused, but quickly realized this was likely planned, and was actually a good thing. Till would be free to see tonight as something Schneider needed to get out of his system, and something he had wanted and finally been able to do without negative repercussions. Schneider was probably moving on from Till as best he knew how. Granted, he could very well be lying, but Richard remembered when, so many years before, he'd done the exact same thing. Schneider was just running away instead of shoving Till's face in it, as Richard had done. Regardless, Schneider was giving up on Till, it seemed.

Then and there, Richard decided to hold Schneider's secret safe, never to be brought up again. Till deserved to be happy, and Schneider deserved to be able to move on with his life.

Richard smiled at Schneider, pushing aside his inhibitions and allowing himself to be swept up in the happiness overflowing at the table.

Whatever happened in the future on their tour was something to be left to the fates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say for the millionth time THANK YOU to everyone who's stuck around through this ridiculous mess. I love each and every one of you, and your comments and criticisms and encouragement give me so much life I feel like I could explode. 
> 
> I can't wait to get started on part three, and hope you'll all join me in it.
> 
> Always remember my tumblr is wide open for comments, suggestions, criticisms, or just chatting. NikoNotHere
> 
> *FIN


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